My obsession with sporks began many moons ago. It all began with the fact that even as a child I had really compulsive tendencies. Once I found something I liked on a menu, it is all that I would ever order. At Taco Bell, that item was my beloved enchirito. When you got the enchirito, it came with a spork. I’m quite sure that most people’s first encounter with the spork was from the dreaded KFC, but not mine. I will always have a soft spot in my heart for Rocko Taco (that’s what we called Taco Bell as kids) because of this nifty utensil.
Unlike some of my obsessions from childhood that I’ve been able to let go of: like ironing my socks, and eating my M&M’s from lightest to darkest, the spork has had a hold on me ever since. A few years back I even got a titanium spork in the mail with no return address. Yes, that’s right folks, I have a secret spork admirer.
There are quite a few folks that love the spork. There are really cute cartoons, shirts, and other things touting the amazing qualities of this fine utensil. One of my favorites is a love note written something like: Dear Fork, I’m sorry I had to leave you but it just wasn’t working out for me any more. But I’ve had a son who kind of looks like you. His name is Spork. Love, Spoon.
I have a pretty keen spork collection, along with two shirts to show my spork love. The one shirt I’m missing that I really want is called, “That’s Not A Spoon.” It’s the Star Wars folks all sitting in the cock pit, looking out at space, at a floating spork. They stopped making it before I could buy one. I even contacted the artist to see if he would make me one, but no such luck. So you see, my love of the spork is stronger than most. It started out as a, “Holy shit that thing is as weird as I am. But good lord if it doesn’t serve its purpose. I can stab in to this here enchirito with the fork like prongs, and then sop up all the sauce with the spoony back portion. Oh my, you and I are gonna have a life long love affair spork.” Yes, yes I do talk to inanimate objects. They rarely ever talk back, so I think I’m okay.
I may or may not have tattoos on my shoulders with skulls and crosssporks.
What do you mean a 37 year old woman can't wear shirts with ridiculous pictures on them?
My collection is nowhere near complete.