Sketch-y Behaviors

It’s not you, it’s me. A break-up letter.

Well, actually it’s both of us. I would say that you and I have an incendiary relationship. Oh sure, when we make love, it’s magical. You’re warm and tender, your kisses are steamy and fulfilling. But I know what I’m doing is wrong, and afterwards I just feel bad about myself.

Yes french fries. I’m breaking up with you.

Oh. Don’t give me that cutesy stuff. You can’t win me back this time.

Remember back in 2009 when I dumped you for 4 months? I was obsessed with you before that. I had stopped hanging out with my good friends spinach and lettuce, and I couldn’t go a day without being kissed by your salty goodness. Those 4 months without you were some of the best. I lost weight, I had new found energy. And I met someone who was very kind to me. Celery and I instantly hit it off.

But slowly you started to creep back into my life. First it was just some drunken meet-ups. Next thing you know, I’m cheating on Celery all the time. Midday quickies. In the car. 2am. At work. In bed. Granted, it wasn’t all sneaking around. You and I had some great adventures at many a fine establishment. Like when you dressed up in garlic at the Dodger’s game last week. That was super sexy.

I am a glutton for punishment. And for french fries. Gorgeous, hot, crispy, seasoned french fries… mmmm…

NO! You can’t do this to me again! I don’t want this to be my future child.

I want you to know that it’s not that I don’t like you. Quite the contrary, I love you like I’ve never loved a food before. But I have to move on with my life. Maybe we can be friends later down the road. But our love affair is over.

Goodbye French Fries. Oh, and you can tell Soda he’s cut off too. Those threesomes were fun but I’m looking for a real meal.