Somebody needs to tell the good people of Miracle Whip to r-e-l-a-x. I mean it’s almost like they need to get laid more than I do, and I think we all know that it’s been years. Seriously, what tube top do I have to squeeze into to get a man to just eye-f**k me, amirightladies? But this whole “we won’t tone it down, you can’t handle the truth, we’re here, we’re schmear, get used to it” schtick is just exhausting. You aren’t mayo, you aren’t butter, you aren’t bacon fat. So when it comes to the light salad dressing that is Miracle Whip, I WILL put baby in the corner. At least until I’m really desperate. Or as I like to call it: Thursdays.
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