Guilty Conscience: A Post-Thanksgiving Mindcrime

      It was fully my intention to post today. Most likely something inspired by the warmth of yesterday's family feasting. Maybe a few recipes or an explanation of my Violet Tendencies cake. All perfectly sane, perfectly rational things to do.

As sane as this can be...

     But as I approached the kitchen this morning, something happened. Something....strange. The voices started again. The siren song of deep-fried food, of melted cheese,crunchy exteriors...what was I to do? I'm only one Man. It wasn't my fault

    Don't get me wrong. I'm not trying to condone my actions, I don't want anyone else following my dark path. This weakness is in me, some genetic flaw, some cosmic joke that blinds me to the consequences of fried food, the pain of upcoming cardio. It was the voices, it wasn't me.

     This has happened to me before. I know. How could I forget the Fried Apple pie debacle? Luther-gate? Or the caloric nightmare that was the Pastrami and egg topped Chili-Bacon Jucy Lucy burger......
Don't judge me.

Will anyone ever love me again?

     But this isn't about past mistakes. I have to face what happened today. Black Friday 2011. Oh, the irony. In retrospect, I can see the cracks forming weeks ago. Take a look at my post about mac&cheese (here). The signs were there if you look. All that talk about "slicability". Why would you need to worry about slicing mac&cheese?! Who serves it by the freakin' slice?! I'm sorry. I just get so upset. But you saw it didn't you? Why didn't you stop it?! Why didn't you help me?

You work for the voices don't you?!

     I don't remember much.  The mac and cheese was there and the stuffing. The knife was there, but these days it's never far away. The next thing that I clearly remember is the cold macaroni slices. (Slices?! Who does that?!) And now, I make never be warm again.

The face of madness....

     Then darkness again. The faint sound of running water, a hint of flour rising in air warmed by and fragrant with heating oil.....  Sorry, I'm OK now, really. My memory is just so foggy. It's just a series of sensations. Spoon on glass scooping stuffing; whisk against plastic bowl, mixing batter: the coolness of dipping: the sharp hiss of battered starches in hot oil. All leading up to one inevitable, dark conclusion:

Cheesy, salty, savory, crunchy evil. Unmitigated evil.

     Don't judge me. I'm feeling much better now. I think I may need those pill again though. I'll have to call my doctor after I finish this bottle of chardonnay. Don't judge me. Hey this oil is still hot. And don't we have some cream cheese and some sweet potato souffle left? Oh no...GET OUT OF MY HEAD!!!!!