Well, "they" let me out of the chip rehab. Somebody asked me if I wanted "to get with the program" (or did she, Nurse Ratchit, say "programme", thinking I was an Anglophile?); I thought she said "reprogram"; and that's what they did. They reprogrammed me; put in a new chip. I'm cured.
Of potato chip addiction.
Not that I've ever exhibited any other type of addictive traits.
I just said that for laughs, of course. (It's part of my blog description, part of the nomenclature, nominally.)
I am a little worried, though.
I may fall victim to what novelist Stephen King termed the old-couch syndrome, or words to that effect. What he meant was, tamp down one addiction, and another one is sure to pop right up, just like the springs on an old couch. Hmmmm. What the heck could those other addictions be? Do you have any?
Based on the minimal number of comments I received when I was in chip rehab, I'm thinking that many of you either a) didn't give a rat's ass, b) didn't believe me, c) didn't care or d) were simply dumbstruck. I don't blame you in any event. There's a lot more pressing stuff in the world than alleged potato-chip alleged addiction. Isn't there? (Gosh. I'm glad I didn't tune in to Ersatz Presidente Bush last night; that would've driven me straight to the 20-ounce bag of kettle chips.)
No one called while I was in chip rehab. Not even The Cornflake King.
Maybe I wouldn't've answered anyway.
Are you like that? I do not like to have anyone answer the phone during suppertime. It's sacred (the eating event, not the phone). Not cellphones or land lines or any phones. They (the eating-event participants, sometimes called family; not the phones) all ignore me anyway. Even I ignore myself sometimes.
Anyway, it's late, and I sound hungry, angry, lonely, and tired (at the rehab they told me to be careful of that, and told me to remember it with an acronym: HALT).
Whew. I sure could use a juicy, greasy, salty potato chip. Just one. Please? Pretty please?
Just be patient with me. They say it takes time for the new chip to start working properly. It'll take a while for me to get back to alleged so-called quote normal unquote.
Laugh. Or....
Else.
p.s. I got new glasses today. Very Euro, whatever that means. I've never had so many compliments so rapidly and uninvited for a new pair of specs. Maybe vanity is my new addiction.
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5 comments:
I have been in Fetty Bord Comment Rehab for addicted bloggers for the last few day. I just fell off the wagon.
I tried. I tried so hard. But now I once again have the monkey on my back.
Later Y'all
I'm addicted to pants (knickers not trousers). Strangely, no one has ever tried to cure me of my addiction. In fact, they even send me more pants. I need another arse. And more drawers for my drawers.
Puss
i read today about the healing of the man born blind.
i presume your gnu glasses is unrelated to this ancient event;
there is afterall no mention of addiction in fact there's a kind of implicit denial: neither this man nor his parents
i'm addicted to loud mus-ak and dancing...ahhhh please don't take away my addiction
and oh - kettle chip - nummy....
Congrats on your release. I wish I could say something wonderful and supportive, but...well...
Personally, I like celery. For that matter, unsalted almonds and raisins taste good and are good for you (within reason). The biggie is to have a small snack every 2-3 hours. Say, an ounce of raisins and an ounce of almonds. It will keep you on the wagon.
All the best to you!
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