Call me Morticia

I realize that I'm developing an unhealthy relationship with food. I can't seem to think of anything I'm willing to ingest. Part of this problem is likely the result of sustaining myself off of the contents of vending machines for the last 3 weeks, but I don't think that means I deserve to be punished in this way. Where has the joy of eating gone? I go to the grocery store and buy things but then inevitably the next day I find myself sadly lacking in anything edible. Even treats have completely lost their appeal. I'm the kind of person who usually loves food which makes my current predicament all the more disturbing. I love to try new food, I like eating food, I love cooking food but all of these activities no longer hold any appeal or satisfaction. All I want is for the talented and charming Barefoot Contessa, also known as Ina Garten, to come live in my house and make me delicious meals full of ridiculously expensive and exotic ingredients that will dazzle my taste buds. Ina's publicist was kind enough to inform me that she's not likely to be moving in any time soon.