I have a history teacher who has ears like tortellini. (Harsh, but true.)
He might as well look like this:
Every time I go to class I wildly crave tortellini.
...But not as much as I used to back in my first year in college. Those were the days when I used to think about tortellini almost as often as I think about tall white boys becoming enraptured with my amazingness and then being invited over to their apartments to drink beer and play RPG video games.
Tortellini is expensive, so I would only buy one package when I went to the store. I would look forward to tortellini night all week.
And when the time came, I would celebrate. Hardcore. Party in front of the microwave ya'll.
Anyways, I am pleased to say that due to my close encounter in history class, I have realized that I don't need tortellini like I used to. It makes me a little sad, and sometimes--like when I look at my teacher's tortellini ears-- I still pine for the comfort it used to give me. But I know better. I have learned my lesson, and I am stronger person for it.