Clearly, something really bad happened on the right side of my couch.
While I love to put away orangefood at every and any opportunity, I don’t really like the radioactive goo that cakes my fingers (Okay, that's a lie. I just hate the damage it does to my surroundings when I don't lick my fingers lickety split). As I got out of the car last night for a book signing at the Tacoma Public Library, my pal Jessica gave me a strange look. She then attacked me, wiping me down and beating my clothes until a cloud of orange rose up around me. Thank God. Without her delousing, the audience would have thought I had come out on the wrong side of a fight with a Tang canister.
I can't punch Cheetos in the face because it will only exacerbate the problem. The only thing to do is to throw some cold water on this all-unnatural snackfood…literally. Either that, or I'm going to mix it with some lotion, create a faux-spray tan, and dress up as Paris Hilton for Halloween…or an Oompa effing Loompa.