You, sir, are my hero. I sincerely think you've single handedly saved my life. So, I thought a thank-you card was in order.
I hate to air all my dirty laundry here, nasty meatball pasta, but it's necessary to understand why you have been to detrimental to my natural self-life sustaining capabilities. I've had a long, on-going, seriously committed relationship to carbs. Me and carbs went everywhere together. I was convinced that carbs loved me. After all, carbs was always making me feel good, especially when I was down. Carbs always made sure that I was never alone, and ensured that I had enough family time (especially celebrating at Olive Garden or V's). Carbs even paid constant compliments on my sweater choices. But what I didn't know about carbs was that carbs turned out to be a blood-sucking parasite. Oh, sure, carbs knew all the right words to say. Carbs even promised to buy me nice things. But really, carbs just wanted a place to crash at night so that carbs wouldn't have to get a job like every other individual on the planet. Carbs used me, preying on my arteries and lack of gym membership. There was a problem, though.In spite of all this, I was still in love with carbs. I couldn't let him go. I know carbs wasn't doing well now but carbs would get back on his feet eventually, just give him some time! Besides,I just went through a really painful break-up with Taco Bell, I don't think I can take any more heartache like that right now. Oh carbs, please never leave me!
I know. It's a pathetic sight. I would've done anything to stay in that really crappy relationship. I needed carbs for emotional support, even if carbs was a loser who refused to get a job and camped out on my stomach for the next six months. Which, if left to his devices, could cause some serious problems like heart disease and diabetes--I can already feel some of the affects weighing on my joints now and then. It wouldn't surprise me in the least if carbs, while lying in lazy passivity, was actually plotting homicidal tendencies. Luckily, you came along, really nasty meatball pasta from Applebees.
You probably don't remember our meeting. It was pretty brief. Though I was sure Applebees really tried I was not very impressed with your poor quality and lack of cheesy goodness. I snarfed down what I could due to the fact that I was hungry, but our collision with the fates was far from over. On the drive home and hours on into the night, I still felt your oppressive presence. It was like I had swallowed a bunch of really mushy rocks that refused to be digested, accompanied by awful garlic burps that appeared with a vengeance and left a stale taste in my mouth. It's not that i was nauseas, its just that I couldn't get your overwhelming grossness out of my system fast enough. Basically, I feel like I'd be ok with never eating ever again. That's how awful you are.
You persistence truly is incredible: I didn't know you were trying to tell me something until it was almost too late. But thankfully, your pursued me until I stopped and realized that what you were telling me really was for the best. After copiously digesting you for hours, I realized I'd be ok with never eating pasta again. And the chains fell. You helped me realize my abusive relationship with carbs. Now, finally, with your help, I think I have both the sense and the strength to leave carbs for good (excluding wheat and whole grain, of course). You're like the sassy gay friend of meat.
Thank you. Really. I appreciate your radical intervention more than you know.
Cordially,
Melinda
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