Excuse Me, Jello. No Awkwardness Allowed.

Excuse me, Jello.

I know you’re trying to be all delicious in your sexy red dress.

I see you shakin’ it.

But, what..

is..

THIS?

And what do I do with it?

Lick it off?

Sometimes I do. But accidental eye contact makes this awkward.

No, I don’t want to have your babies.

I just can’t part with the 0.18-calorie appetizer to my 10-calorie treat.

Who made Jello awkward?

I mean, seriously.

I feel awkward holding doors.

I feel awkward walking down long hallways.

Jello + Spoon + Me = NOT awkward.

Maybe I’m looking at this all wrong.

Maybe this is just a nicely packed to-go box. (Thank you).

But even so. Where does this excess treat come from? And why is it in blob formation?

As you can see, there is no indentation.

No sign of migration.

Do unattended Jellos reproduce?

What are you doing in there?!

Can I make you reproduce more quickly?

And make differently shaped baby blobs?

Like a high five?

Or a heart?

Can Jello be my secret lover?

Please?

I’m really sweet.

And entertaining.

Mildly awkward. But don’t let that be a road block.

We can hold hands.

And walk in the park. You need me. I have legs.

Where is this going?

I need to know.

I can’t just keep licking you off pieces of aluminum foil. I mean, it’s embarrassing.

You’re making me look desperate.

And I am. But we’re not supposed to tell anyone.

Oh gosh, I just said “we.”

Does that mean you and I are an item now?

Are we going to take this to Facebook?

‘Cause I’m not cool with that.

I was thinking more secret love affair, less Internet romance public relations fiasco.

More of a ménage à trios with me, you and whatever lucky spoon joins in.

Okay.

Stop jiggling. It’s obnoxious.

I’ll change MySpace.

See. I’m not “Single” anymore.

I’m a “Swinger.”

What do you think?

WHAT?!?!

I can’t hear you!

Why did you go in my stomach already?!?

Shit.

We’ll discuss this later.

But I’m not going to hold your hand anymore.