Seriously.  I said, “please” after all.

This is some bullshit, constantly having my pretzel M&Ms wiped out from right under my nose.  And the thing is, I know who the culprits are EVERYTIME.

I like regular M&Ms well enough.  Peanut M&Ms, on the other hand, are like my crack.  I can’t get enough of those things.  Then, pretzel M&Ms showed up.  Total fucking game changer.  Scratch that: life changer.

So, I have a friend who once came over to my house, we were all hanging out, there was a bowl of pretzel M&Ms on the table, and as one would expect, the M&Ms got devoured.  They were, after all, pretzel M&Ms, the champagne of M&Ms.  Or something.  In any case, I guess I must’ve been visibly chagrined when the M&Ms were gone.  I barely got to eat any and now I had an empty bowl with little bits of the candy shell smithereens at the bottom.

Several days later, she came back and brought with her a new bag of pretzel M&Ms.  I had been a bit too obvious about those fucking M&Ms, after all.  I felt like a douche.  And I haven’t been able to live it down since.

I try not to buy pretzel M&Ms too frequently, despite my apparent fandom.  Common sense prevails when I realize how much I fucking love these crunchy M&Ms, and when you match that with my fat, doughy body, no good can come from enabled overindulgence.  I know my habits well enough – after all, I have first-hand experience of how to clock in at 150lbs as a 12 year-old by being an expert at standing at the fridge, door ajar, and devouring an entire Cadbury chocolate bar right there and then.  I’ve done that plenty of times, and it’s fucking grotesque.

It’s taken a lot of hard work (this is how I channel my energy?!), but I have learned to pace myself with M&Ms.  I now buy them once in a blue moon.  And when I do, I do my best to just eat a small handful, then walk the fuck away from them.  It’s not easy, but shit, do I work hard at not eating an entire pound of it in one sitting.  If I had my way, a bag now could probably last me about 3 weeks.  I AM A RESPONSIBLE ADULT.

But I don’t get my way.

Because these days, I’ll buy a bag of pretzel M&Ms, and it’ll be gone in 2 days.  Or less.  Not by me, mind you.  Once I bought a bag, got on a plane the next day for a day trip to Boston, came home, and the bag had all but disintegrated.  Naturally, I lost my shit, held a family inquisition, pointed accusingly at everyone, and all I got was a trifecta of fingers pointing every which way amongst my wife and two kids.  So, so messed up.

Today, I came home and it happened again – a freshly-opened bag of pretzel M&Ms laid limply on counter.  About four-fifths of the bag drained… again, not by me.  I peered at the missus and the kids.  No one returned any eye contact.  In fact, they all fled the room.

When it was clear that I gone into full WTF mode, the kids tried to be “helpful.”  “Dad, maybe next time you should keep the M&Ms out of sight, so that no one can see them and eat them.”  “Hey Dad, maybe you should put a sign on the M&Ms telling people to stay away.”  What “people” are you talking about?!  These people are you guys, you cheeky monkeys.  I shouldn’t have to hide my candy or make special signs.

How about you ingrates just not eat all my goddamn M&Ms.  How about that?  How about some goddamn self-restraint, kids.  There are two things I ask for that I don’t think are entirely unreasonable: the biggest piece of chicken, and someone else not eating all my goddamn pretzel M&Ms.  Is that too much of an ask?  No, no I don’t think so.

Just let me have my M&Ms, people.  Seriously, everyone please just stop eating my pretzel M&Ms.  ‘Cause I’m about to lose my shit.