"I Now Pronounce You; Manwich"

Lately, I'm happiest when I'm eating Doritos.

I love them.

I want to marry them.

I think that we should pass a Constitutional Amendment allowing people to marry snack food. I mean, it really should be up to the individual whether or not they want to devote themselves to another individual, a bag of pretzels, or dare I say, a bag of Skittles.

If god is pissed that someone just betrothed themselves to a tube of Pringles, what the hell is it to anybody else???

They'll eventually find out the universe's feelings or thoughts on the matter and that will be between god, the person and the Pringles.

Anyway, I want to marry Doritos. The original kind. Not all those other crazy poser flavors. I'm in love with Doritos - old school style.

I haven't told Will yet. I have a feeling he won't be surprised.

I would also like to marry cheeseburgers.

And poached eggs.

And spaghetti.

I know, I know, I've expanded my desires to entrees now and I must be a polygamist at heart, or at taste buds, or at stomach. We all saw it coming, didn't we? I mean, once you open up marriage to anyone/anything other than the opposite sex of your species, well...it's just going to snowball from there.

And truly, where would it end? What if someone fell in love with Kleenex and wanted to marry? That's all fine and dandy until you get caught in a rainstorm with your betrothed tissue and the relationship just falls apart before your very eyes.

Or what happens if you're caught off-guard with a violent sneeze while you're holding your loved one? The next thing you know, you're on trial for Involuntary Tissueslaughter. Snot pretty, my friends.

But, that's between me and the universe...and whatever sustenance I decide to marry, between the person and the tissue - maybe they should've chosen a union with Bounty (the Quicker Picker-Upper), rather than a Puff. But, that was for them to decide.

Sweet-N-Sour pork, which I am not interested in in the least, should have nothing to say about my feelings towards spaghetti.

And why would the Sweet-N-Sour pork care anyway? I can't imagine that it's jealous, or confused, or not fully secure in its own existence? Maybe just a bit too judgmental for its own sake. Well, whatever it is, I guess that's where the "Sour" part comes in. That should remain the pork's problem. And as far as I'm concerned, the Sweet-N-Sour pork can go straight to Chop Suey. And well...Chop Suey, we all know that little tasty dish is just a mess.

But, that's really not for me to say.