that pigskin sport

I have an addiction.  Anthony Kiedis, I can now relate to Scar Tissue.  Nikki Sixx, you were right, the sun does set fast these days. (I’m assuming for the sake of this article, both of you read the site while touring).  Seriously, I’m an abandoned apartment filled with empty wrappers away from hitting rock bottom.  I’m cold all the time.  My increasing tolerances force me to constantly seek bigger scores.  I’m not sleeping.  I don’t feel good.  Deep breaths cause sharp upper back pains.  My will power is gone.  I’m scared and alone. Oh God, what have I become?

What could a kid in his early twenties possibly have an addiction to? Marijuana? Come on, I’m not a high school student, much less a cool one.  Cocaine? I wish I was a rockstar.  Black tar heroin? Nah, too many needles.  Horse tranquilizers? Not even close.  Human growth hormones? Who am I? Mark McGwire?  Stem cells? No…wait, what? Where did that come from?  You’re reaching now.  So, what then is the bane of my existence?  It’s simple, really.  I’m addicted to Arby’s.  I can’t stop.  I don’t want to stop.  Is that the first sign of an addiction?  Why am I sweating so much?  This can’t be normal.

I was doing fine without you Arby’s.  Sure, I wasn’t as close to Taco Bell as I was in high school and it was hard to keep a long distance relationship with Burger King, but I was calling every week and visiting every month.  McDonald’s may not have been as pretty or cool as the other fast food establishments, but their Dollar Menu was always there to console me in my darkest hours.  And then you showed up Arby’s.  Like a spurned ex-lover, you picked up right where you left off.  You just couldn’t leave me alone.  I thought I had moved on, told myself I was done with your high prices, but you sweet talked your way back into my life.  Come on inside, Mix and Match is now only $6!  Try our new $5 sub combos! I just couldn’t resist.  I was dumb, naïve and desperate.

I mean, it started harmlessly enough.

I guess I don’t have time to cook dinner before basketball.  I could stop at Arby’s. Shoot, I forgot to pack a lunch.  Well, Arby’s is basically on the way to work. Soon, it became an untamable beast.  I suppose I only bought a small Arby’s combo meal for lunch, I could go back for a large combo at dinner. That’s when things started spiraling out of control.  I’ve now gone to Arby’s four times in the last four days.  Seriously.  No, I don’t think you’re following… I’m serious.  I’d like to say I could stop at anytime, give it up cold turkey, but I don’t think I can. I’m having roast beef cravings again.  Is this what it’s like being a vampire?  Is Wesley Snipes poor and delusional enough to start hunting me? (These are the things I wonder about at night instead of sleeping.)  How does a normal man resist the urge of thinly sliced roast beef slathered with tangy Arby’s sauce?  Oh God, it’s happening again!  The cravings!  The sun… it’s going down.  There…there has to be a vaccine… some sort of antidote.  This can’t go on forever… can it?  Is there no hope for a broken man?  It must wait until tomorrow… because I’m… I’m thinking Arby’s.