Where Has the Love Gone? And Where Will It Go?

Ladies and Gentlemen, Boys and Girls of all ages,

I
Love
Potatoes.

That's right! I've made it though this agonizing month of growth and foodery! I'll be mere hours before my date with Wendy's and their new infamous fries. I'm gonna gobble those suckers up like Pac Man in a cherry factory. You'll get video footage or pictures, I promise.

Well folks, this is the end of the line. Now, I've decided to give you all a few options.

1.) Send me suggestions as to where you think I should go next. Anywhere at all.

2.) I'll do a little something twice a week or so as a "choose your own adventure" blog, where I start the business, but I give you options (a, b, c, etc.) to choose from and whichever is chosen I present and then offer further choices. So a blog that you AND I make.

3.) I continue to journey about the land of food, meeting different characters and learning new recipes, therefore educating myself and you of the lovely (and humorous) place in which our edibles dwell.

4.) A Masterpiece Theater spoof with potatoes as the characters. (In this you really have no choice. I'm doing it regardless because I love the concept and Sesame Street's Monsterpiece Theatre that I saw on youtube.) I'll start with a story I like and you can suggest others that you want performed by our potato actwahrs.

Whatever ends up winning, I really would like this to turn into more of an interactive place. A lot of people coming together and helping make one thing has always been an idea I've been attracted to, and I don't see why it couldn't work here. You're all intellegent readers, I'm sure (except for you over there) and it'd be fun to make you part of my blog. Aw, it'll be like "our" blog. We should get towels made up.

So, either comment below, send me a little somethin' somethin' on facebook, or feel free to email me any of those numbers or input of any kind. I'll still continue, regardless; I've heard from enough of you to know your lives just wouldn't be the same without me.

On to the finality of science!

Height: a Final Fantasied Five Feet.
Weight: The End of what is 123 lbs.!

I believe I am indeed victorious. I think Mr. Lay and I will be friends at this point, but I am through being infatuated with him. He'll just have to find someone else. Let's hope it isn't you. Unless you're into that sort of thing. No judgment.

So long, but not farewell,

Rini

The End is Near. Repent!

Potatoes and I are starting to get along again. I guess.

I mean, as opposed to my hatred for them yesterday. Well, you know, truth is, I've got two days left of this spud-free lifestyle, and I can honestly say that I'm not craving potato chips at this point. Mr. Lay and I might just have to call it quits.

Those new Wendy's fries and I have a date, however, and at 12:00 a.m. on December 1st, you know where I'll be.

Be that as it may, I've had a jolly good time on this whole little adventure (except for the parts that I was dying or in a feeble struggle with potato lust) and think I'm a better person because of it. The only question is: where do I go from here?

Not that Mr. Lay will disappear entirely, you realize, but stick figure me is going to have to find a new place to live and new lessons to learn. I suppose I'll just have to keep you all in suspense whilst you wait for what's next.

Please enjoy this potato haiku:

Potatoes are great.
They will never let you go.
I love them long time.

;)

Science!

Height: a miraculous 5 feet.
Weight: a jaunty 123 lbs.

Loving you long time,

Rini

I'm Not Thankful for You. Get Out.

I HATE POTATOES!!!

At this very moment a large bowl of their mashed state stares at me every time I open the fridge. It's huge. It's impossible not to stare back. I have to denounce them in my mind to get my eyes off of them. "I'm NOT going to eat you. I'm NOT."

Temptation, outrage, and butter: all things of which my Thanksgiving consisted.

You know, that time? Thanksgiving? That holiday of hunger? The feast-ival of foods? The Christmas of our stomachs? The gravy train ride of green beaned and creamed corn passengers alike?

Yeah, that happened.

It happened hard.

Not one, but two big ole bowls of mashed pertaters were set on our long table that fateful day. The one sitting in front of me stared me down like a territorial cat with a severe lack of eyelids. It smelled wonderful.

I filled my plate with many other things that day, turkey, ham, green beanies, broccoli, and countless desserts, but not one morsel of potato anything passed my lips that day. My perseverance is absolute. My commitment is commendable. You people should be proud of me. It was like being a crank addict in a meth lab. (Yes, I did have to do wiki research to form that sentence.)

Yet, somehow, I survived, instead opting to eat a lot of cheesecake with a Reese's layer baked into it to compensate. I was still full and happy, since all it really takes to make me happy is being full of food.

I'm sure Mr. Lay was distraught and depressed this Thanksgiving without me. This year broke one of our most sacred and hallowed of all Thanksgiving traditions: after stuffing myself with table foods, I would retreat to the back room with full bags of chips and my cousins and continue to eat. (The chips, not the cousins.) As glorious of a tradition as it was, I'm sure it was time to retire it.

I apparently have the metabolism of a hummingbird, have acquired a tapeworm, or a micro black hole inside my stomach to eat the way that I have for all these years and still be fairly small.

Perhaps I am a food god. Yes, I like the sound of that. Rini, the god of food. I'll have to print up business cards.

Well! So I hate potatoes, but only because of how they torment me with their delicious butter-injected goodness. Lucky for them I'm the forgiving sort. I should really be shaking my metaphorical fists at my giggling family for the enhanced temptations (I see you there, Aunt Lisa O.o), but I love them far too much to ever be angry at them.

I'll just get bitter and slowly rot from the inside instead.

I'm sure all the ice cream I eat will keep me sweet enough.

Legitimately thankful for family and friends (and ecstatic to have them up and see them),

Rini