Ugh, why do the cheese puffs get stuck in my teeth? It's like the world is conspiring against me. I swear, it's like the Cheetos themselves are plotting against my dental health.
And don't even get me started on the dust. It's like a fine powder coating of despair, a reminder that even the most seemingly innocuous snack can bring me to my knees.
I've tried to quit, I really have. But the allure of that bright orange color, the promise of a momentary satisfaction, it's like my brain is controlled by some sort of cheesy puppeteer.
I've resorted to using a straw, a ridiculous, sad straw to suck out the remaining Cheetos from the bag, but even that's not enough. It's a Sisyphean task, a never-ending struggle against the crunchy, cheesy forces that be.