Happy Weekaversary, everyone. Now, looking at that word is much different than me just saying it in my head all day. It looks SO much like "adversary", which is what the world is becoming through the goggles of my withdrawal.
I woke this morning feeling slightly feverish. This could have been related to the changing of the seasons, but I knew better. Withdrawal. Craving. Potato Fever. I would be cursed to spend the rest of the day hallucinating and I knew it.
While I was making waffle cones this morning at work, I could see them sitting on the power lines across the street. Potatoes. I knew they were birds, but they looked like a pleasant little row of spuds just sitting there against the sunny sky. The heat from the sun's rays was no doubt cooking them to perfection despite the chilly November air. Oh, how I wanted them.
The potatoes. Not the birds. Well, the bird-potatoes. Or potato-birds. ... ...potatoes.
As for all the ice cream I scooped today? Potatoes. Every ball of fresh flavored cream looked like a tater, with the exception of "Sweet Potato with Torched Marshmallows", which was the potato's cousin as far as I was concerned, so it stayed the same.
Every bald person who walked through the door? Potato. Every blonde woman's head was transfigured into a flowing chip cascade with a face in it. Every man with a well-grown mustache was M. Pringles. It was torment.
Don't even ask what the babies looked like. I feel bad enough for wanting to eat them.
Still, I survived and made it home, fearing that I may turn to some other horrible starch to try and control the symptoms of my self-inflicted potato drought the way a smoker turns to gum.
Curse you, Mr. Lay, for making me love you so. I just want to bury myself in a bag of you, but know that I won't. You're just a heart breaker, and my momma taught me better than that.
Cue the sunset, 'cuz this is the sound of me riding off into it like the martyr that I am.
The lady needs some science!
Height: a fabulous five feet.
Weight: a glorious 126 lbs.
Three more weeks isn't so bad, right?
*I'm dyyyying*
For the birds,
Rini
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