Dear Peanut-butter:

I love you so much but you are like a dysfunctional and way-too-sexy-must-be-trouble boyfriend.  The more I want you the more our relationship becomes a problem.  And even worse, the sicker you are the more I can't get enough.  I'll be honest: I like you best when you're full of trans fats and creamy smooth.  That's our first problem.  Also like all clandestine pairs we get along best when I'm feeling bad late at night.  Increasingly you are demanding that we engage in threesomes with me and a bar of dark chocolate and it's getting out of hand. I love you but we need to go on a break.

So I'm drawing some healthy boundaries with you my friend.  You can come to the refrigerator once a month in a small-sized jar.  I can only handle you when you are organic and trans fat free.  Other than that you are exiled until we can establish a more functional relationship.

I'll miss you and the good times we used to have.  See you  on April 1st.

Posted on March 2, 2010 and filed under Nothing to Do with Anything.