Nicole, Nicole, Nicole ...

PeepsNet isn't about ratting on the peeps. We aren't interested in the seamy underbelly of their lives. We'd rather not think there was a dark side. We don't want to hear about their weaknesses and foibles, or the gender confusion, addiction, gambling obsession, spiritual ambivalence, Oedipal complex, "daddy issues," and ritual cruelty to small animals.

And neither should you.

But there are limits to our restraint. We have just learned that Nicole has been unfaithful -- Nicole! Here is her unrepentant confession, on the Interwebs:

"A confession: I'm obsessed with cauliflower. And I'm not sorry."

Oh -- you're sorry all right.

We can't fathom what possessed npr.org to publish this metaphor-laden "Story of N." Of course, it is extremely well written, dammit.

"If a head of this funny-looking crucifer doesn't find its way into at least one meal a week, I'm either having a bad month or am out of town too much. A dinner without cauliflower feels off-balance, lackluster. A life without cauliflower is no life at all."

Nicole, please. Try to regain a modicum of dignity. No man is worth humiliating yourself like this. (Or likes to be called a "funny-looking crucifer." This may be your problem).

PeepsNet must find a hip urban dictionary to completely understand the disgusting acts Nicole describes below -- reprinted not for shock value but out of journalistic necessity:

"There are so many ways to adore you, cauliflower. I love you for your delicious, crumbly gratins baked for an hour in the oven on Friday evenings. I love your Monday night soups quickly whirled together and laced with mushrooms and herbes de Provence. I love your lazy Sunday afternoon curries served with coconut rice. But I think best of all I love you slow-roasted at 400 degrees for about a half hour."

I just don't know you anymore.

The entire, pathetic love letter is here. And, if you have a stomach for this, don't forget to listen to the podcast.