The Cheese Nips Corporation can all go fuck themselves and burn in hell. If you are a muncher of these shit squares....you have a gutter-pallet and don't deserve to be a part of any worldly discussion.
Now Cheese-Its, on the other hand....I like those. I like those a lot. You can't not like those. There are two types of people in this world: 1. Cheese It lovers. 2. Goddamn liars.
A childhood friend of mine has an interesting connection with these salty polygons. A box sat with her and her family at every meal.
"But Omar, why? Why would a box of..." Shut the fuck up and let me finish talking, that's why.
The real reason why was because my friend's father preferred the mother's cooking when it had two handfuls of the deliciousness crumbled on top. I used to think that's hilarious! Soon it turned into that makes sense once I tried a bite of her attempts at what she calls food. (This wonderful friend of mine ate breakfast for dinner 8 days a week)Imagine, a snack so good that the mere dust on top of shitty meatloaf can transform it into something I'd inhale. This was my first billion dollar idea, a Cheese It grinder to be presented with the salt and pepper shakers.
If I was in the same situation at their dinner table...but with a box of Cheese Nips and a gun...I'd shoot the box of Cheese Nipples and go next door and shoot the neighbor's dog before taking myself out. It's a bit much, I know...but seriously, ew. Cheese Nips are gross and Cheese Its are god.
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