In my midnight confessions, when I tell all the world that I love you

Due to recent events, I suppose it's time for me to come clean about a thing or two...

I want to confess everything to you, dear readers, and lift the weight from my soul. I have, for the past few months, been living a lie. Yes, I have struggled with a dark secret tucked away from the world and kept only to myself...

I know what you're thinking. In fact, some of you have suspected it for quite some time now. I come here today to tell you in no uncertain terms that it's all true. I am 100% guilty.

I am absolutely addicted to Microwave Pot Roast.

I mean, damn that stuff is the Bomb! Lemme tell you what kids, it's the Citizen Kane of irradiated beef products. It takes both the Mack Daddy and the Daddy Mack into the alley out back and beats the crap out of them.
Then it takes their milk money and blows it on hookers and wine coolers, it's so fucking good.

Those of you that have emailed me with your letters of concern have not gone unheard. I appreciate the sort of digital intervention you've gone through to make me admit my problem. But really, enough already. I've heard the word "gram" enough to last me a decade. I've got grams comin out my eyesockets over here. I'm done hearing about kilocals, BMIs, and net carbs too. Seriously, net carbs can lick my balls.
Your good intentions are duly noted. I'll take it all into consideration. No really, I've been planning to get some help with th-

*ding!*

Gotta go, pot roast's done.