A Cry for Help

Photo credit: someone else.

As it turns out, I don't really have all that many vices. But there is one thing that I simply cannot refuse; one thing that poses a significant risk to my god-like body - Stacy's Baked Pita Chips. Especially the "simply naked" variety, seasoned with nothing but sea-salt and shame. There just aren't that many things out there that I really worry about literally eating a whole bag of, but this is one of them. I (stupidly) often eat them while I'm doing something else, like reading or... eating lunch (which still qualifies as "something else" because my brain seems to be able to focus 100% of its processing power on eating pita chips, if given the chance). This is a terrible idea, because it can take me several minutes before I realize that I'm shoving them in my mouth as fast as I can. With both hands. I often joke that they're laced with crack, but given the way I jones for them when there aren't any around, it's not that funny anymore. I can't think of anything else. I start to think of ridiculous, risky ways to get quick cash to get my fix. Sure, I've done some things I'm not proud of, but it's not my fault. I'm sick, man. So, if you haven't ever had them, give them a shot. Maybe just try one. Oh, have you seen those crystal meth PSA's? I think I just came up with a new ad campaign for Stacy's: Pita Chips - The High is a Lie.