Dear Jimmy Dean,
I have a confession to make: Sausage is not my thing. Sure, I'll enjoy the occasional pork dish - bacon! and pork chops! oh my! But sausage does nothing for me. (I am trying really hard right here not to make a sex joke. You know, so that you will take me seriously.)
It's not your fault, Jimmy. Whenever I eat sausage, I burp it all day long. Which is disgusting, right? I know that you don't care, I know that. But I'm just saying, this is why I had never purchased any of your delicious (or so I hear) sausage.
And while we're being honest, Jimmmy? I also hate your logo. Just between us: I do live in Ohio, and so I'm sure that most people will assume that I am a bit of a hilljack, but I have a very strong dislike of cowboy boots. And other things country. If people are into that then I think that is fantastic, but I am not, so I'm sad to report that I am a little turned off by the cowboy boot portion of your logo.
Anyway! I'm not writing to tell you how much I hate you! No! I'm writing to tell you that I think that I might be falling in love with you and to see if you want to get married. You know, in case I ever get a divorce...or maybe just make out? I'm good at making out.
First of all, the sun commercials complete me. I know you probably hired some sort of fancy marketing company to create that for you, but I'm sure that you, being Jimmy Dean, were in charge of making the final decision to make the sun your new commercial logo of choice.
That shit cracks me up every single time.
Whoever reads your letters is probably getting really bored with my rambling. But at least they will be earning their paycheck, right? HA!
So anyway, I'm not sure if you read my blog, but I have gestational diabetes. Or, as you may better know it via Wilford Brimley/Liberty Mutual/Google Images: The Diabeetus.
Since I have The Diabeetus, I can't really eat carbs. And really, how many hunks of colby cheese can a girl eat, right? It's hard Jimmy. It's hard to find things that fit my gestational diabetes diet and also taste delicious enough to satisfy my giant pregnancy hunger.
But then I found you! You and your cowboy boot logo bearing microwave four cheese omelets and OH MY GOD! I feel like we're close enough that I can tell you that I really needed a moment alone after eating the first one. It was THAT GOOD. And hardly any carbs! You little devil, you.
So what I'm writing to tell you is that I think I love you. Or, I think I am very much sexually attracted to that handsome cook who wears the cowboy boots in your logo. If you are looking for someone to have little cowboy boot, pig slaughtering, omelet making offspring? I'm in.