Confession Time.
I'm addicted to Baked Doritos. Completely, unequivocally, obsessively addicted. I want them for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I try to resist them all evening and then I just can't help myself. Even if I'm not really hungry, it's an itch that has to be scratched. When I notice we're getting low, I'll make a special trip to Wal-Mart to buy some more (they have the best price on them there, belive me I've checked) under the guise of needing something else to buy. I even have a special way of eating them: I crunch them up into tiny pieces so it lasts longer. Strange? I don't think so.
But I think my family's on to me and intervention is imminent.
Last night as I settled down with the computer I tried to discreetly munch away, but it wasn't long before Hilton noticed in the next room. Busted.
"Do I smell Doritos?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"I think I smell Doritos."
"At least they're baked! It's not like they're the real thing!"
Even the boys know Mommy Has a Problem. When Jake saw me getting stuff together to make dinner the other night, he had it all figured out.
"Mommy, you making Doritos for dinner tonight?"
Step #1: Admitting you have a problem. Check.
A haphazard and inconsistent collection of melodramatic musings and quasi-intelligent insights we've gained in the chaos that is life... how's that for quirky and humble?
You came by this one honestly through the gene pool. But for me it is potato chips. Doritos are nasty.
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