Monday, September 20, 2010
I'll tell you the problem with having Oreos in the house--they're so dang noisy! No matter what room I'm in, I can hear their siren song: "Come to me, baby! You know you want me. I'm here for you; I know exactly how you like it," and all sorts of b.s. that I swear that I won't believe the next time but I always fall for it. Always.
Now it's easy to say that I could just tune them out since I know from sad experience that they're lying to me--they really DON'T fulfill all my fantasies like they claim that they will--they just leave me feeling used and abused. "Come on, baby, just one--I promise!" I've heard THAT line a thousand times and I know that I'll just end up with a bag of Oreo crumbs, an empty feeling, and that dizzy, sorta sick queasiness that I know so well.
But I'm weak and they eventually wear me down. "Come get me--it'll be different this time." As if. "You can stop at one; you can stop anytime you want. Really." Eventually I succumb. Every single time they're in the house, I eat every last one of them.
The only way to break myself of the Oreo jones is to keep as far away from the lyin' devils as I can. I don't care if they're PAYING you at Safeway to take them off their hands--I'm not falling for it. I don't care if I have to get a restraining order--they're NOT coming into my house again!
Because as soon as they start their sweet-talkin' from the cupboard, ("Oooh, Baby! You know you want it. I won't ever leave you hurtin' again. We can be soooo good together...Just once for old times sake??") I know that I'm a goner.