Rindiana Jones and the Temple of Doom.

I love me some taters.

Today, much like Indiana Jones, I went looking for trouble. Trouble did not disappoint me. It found me in great quantity, in fact.

Now where does one go looking for trouble? Walmart. Walmart, where trouble lives and moves and breathes and dresses horribly. The Holy Grail of Trouble exists in the place, is basically what I'm saying, in case you didn't get that.

I needed shampoo and conditioner and deodorant; you know, normal human things, but life just wouldn't be complete without a Goliath potato chip display, and before I knew it, there it was before me, waiting to slice me down with fancy flippy sword gestures of craving. Good thing I bring guns to sword fights. The gun being my phenomenal will-power and dedication to this endeavor, of course.

But... looking can't hurt, right?

Like little golden idols laid out in rows, they just sat there, unassuming. A wonderous sight to behold. What could humanity possibly gain from such magnificence but the urge to worship? How I miss thee, taters. How I miss thee. I wonder if the Incas felt this way about their golden idol thingies.

Note the shampoo bottle. I really did come for something besides drooling over luscious rolling racks of crispy goodness.

To scale the great wall of Potato Temple, one must have grace, strength, and a semi-determined look on one's face. I obviously have all three.

All the treasure is mine. I will hide it from the Spud Nazis.

I can't eat what on what, now? You can't stop me.

The TORMENT. (Yes, folks, this is how I spend my free time. Enjoy it.)

Mine? ...obviously the face of a strung-out chipaholic.

If I was so weak as to fall prey to my old ways, I would plunder the stands for all they were worth, filling every pocket and coat space with bags and cans.

I could get a cart, but that would be mighty convenient and wouldn't look nearly as silly. Unless I sat in the cart and buried myself in bags. ...next time, Mr. Lay, next time.

To the inevitability of science!

Height: my fantastic 5'0" of bullwhip wielding power.
Weight: the 126 lbs. that run like a mongoose from giant boulders.

As a final note, I did buy celery and mushrooms too, so I hope you're proud of my attempts to eat healthier. Celery so I can still mindlessly crunch and mushrooms for some stir-fry I want to make tomorrow. I know you were just dying to know.

Shampooed and conditioned,

Rini