Obsessed with myself.

Remember when I told you guys about the Fudge Lover? I have become increasingly consumed by finding out something, anything, about the Fudge Lover. I mean, that was over a year ago. I park near the Fudge Lover every day and I have yet to even catch a glimpse of the Fudge Lover. I don't even know if the Fudge Lover is a man or a woman. I've had some ideas thrown at me: she's a white woman who likes black men, he's a gay man, she's a really fat lady who really just loves fudge. I'm starting to think that I will never know.

The other day I took a peek into the car and saw a black and silver travel mug and a tupperware dish from Ikea. This tells me NOTHING. Then I started thinking, I use a black and silver travel mug and I have that same set of tupperware from Ikea. (It was $2, dude, I couldn't resist) So I wonder. Am I the Fudge Lover? I do love fudge. Who doesn't love fudge, you know what I mean? And the similarities don't end there. I will say I've never slept with a black man, but even though it's technically impossible for me to be a gay man, I have taken it up the ass on quite a number of occasions.

That's not true, I've actually never taken it up the ass. I just thought it would be funny to say that. It was funny, right? You were shocked and you covered your mouth. Admit it.