I have a problem. I love all things Totino’s. The thin flaky crust topped with the unique and flavorful cubes of meat, come in tasty crispy disks the size of a dinner plate as well as the more popular, and portable pizza rolls

I don’t know where I learned of these deliciously scrumptious puffed pastry pillows of goodness, but I’m thankful that I stumbled across them. This, my tens of readers is what truly frightens me. I am thankful for Pizza Rolls.

I know they’re horribly unhealthy for me and I should avoid them at all costs, but there is just something about them. I hear them. I hear them calling to me from the freezer case as I walk past in the grocery store. I see them, dancing within their brightly colored red and yellow packaging, tempting me to reach in and liberate them from the frozen tundra they inhabit. I reach into the freezer case, past the small boxes holding a mere 15 rolls, to the economy pack containing in excess of 60 rolls and lift the heavy bag with a reverence most would reserve for a religious relic or a treasured family heirloom and carry it to the cash register to settle my bill.

Arriving at home, I pause momentarily before putting the hefty sized bag into the freezer sensing the rolls beckoning me to journey with them to the tropical heat of the oven. I melt into a weak puddle of desire waiting for their pasty white skin to toast into a rich golden brown signifying the delicious pastry pillows are ready to devour. The puffs begin to crack open from the heat spilling small amounts of the contents onto the baking sheet to sizzle and burn on the hot metal. They’re done!

Donning my special chili-pepper oven mitts, I reach into the stifling heat of the oven to remove the tray of heaven with one hand while reaching for the spatula with the other, my special pizza roll bowl (left over from my childhood) sitting close by waiting to receive the golden goodness.

As I sit here in front of the television I’m slowly feeding them into my mouth savoring the tangy sauce full of spices and rich zesty tomato flavoring. I’m full, but I’m not afraid of the stigma I risk at sharing this with the world.

Oh shit.

I was going to write about my secret affection for Barbra Streisand before I got distracted by those damned pizza rolls. I love Babs. The Little Brown One is the only person before this that I’ve ever shared that with, and I did that by accident. I had quietly borrowed stolen one of his tapes to listen to in my car. A few days later, we were running errands and he said “Oh, I didn’t know you liked Babs, I’ve got a few tapes you can borrow”. I nodded my head quietly hoping the topic would switch to something more comfortable since I didn’t want to admit that I’d stolen one of his in the first place. Unfortunately, The Little Brown One figured it out before the topic could change and I was “outed”. The freedom felt wonderful. No longer did I need to hide in my room with my headset on, under the covers in the late of night hoping the faint whispers of her velvety voice would not be overheard by any oblivious passersby.

So there you have it. Not only am I a closeted Babs fan, but I have an unhealthy affection to processed foods.