Fucking Cheez-Its defeated me. I knew my position was a weak one: I love Cheez-Its and the only way I can keep from eating entire boxes is by buying those little 100-calorie packs. (I don't know why, but something just won't allow me to open up more than one little bag.) This morning, I forgot my little 100-calorie pack. So all I had for lunch was a chicken sandwich, baby carrots, and grapes. See how that's way too healthy? See how I need the Cheez-Its? I voyage to the vending machine to buy make-up Cheez-Its, and they do not sell 100-calorie packs there, people. Oh, no. They have bags of goodies that proudly proclaim things like, "Now bigger and with more cheesy-fat goodness" or "This bag is bigger than your head and you will eat it all, bitch." But I was determined; I would prevail; I would only eat half the bag of cheesy goodness.
Yeah. If you need me, I'll be in the corner, brushing bright orange cracker flakes from my chest.
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