mac and cheese. its all i can eat every day of my life. its consuming me. the sweet, sweet cheese is grasping its golden fingers upon my soul. how could i go on? how could i move forward? how could i keep taking steps forward when my sweet tootsies are just stuck in the vat of cheese that lays before me? what would my father think? what would he say if he could see me now, face full of cheese and a memory full of roni?