Chief Cook and Bottle Washer

So I'm standing in front of the fridge, and I'm thinking: We have nothing good to eat--and I just shopped today. At least when I lived with my parents, I could blame them for never having anything good to eat. Now I have only myself to blame, although not completely. I couldn't help not buying anything good because every time I looked at something remotely scrumptious, I had Martina McBride's thighs floating in front of me, clattering together, scolding me in their bone-clanking fashion to not buy the vodka-filled chocolates.