I actually have several stories which might persuade you to follow this advice, but for the sake of a concise plot and meaningful theme, here is the latest anecdote:
I'm lactose intolerant. Very. The fact that I, TMI-extraordinaire, won't tell you what "'very' lactose-intolerant" entails should be enough.
Okay, fine, since you INSIST-- this Pepto ad is a pretty adequate description:
So, lactose intolerance, folks. 'Moooooving' on. (HA) (Sometimes I take these puns udderly too far.)
So the really tough part about being lactose intolerant is that PIZZA IS DELICIOUS. Right?
However, if you have absolutely no dignity like moi, there are ways to get around this:
- Pick yummy stuff off of cheese and eat it.
- Pull cheese off pizza, and place in mouth. Suck all the sauce off.
- Put cheese back on plate. If you want extra Klassy points, take the cheese out of your mouth piece-by-piece as you sucker-fish all the sauce off different sections.
- Keep an eye on your plate.
And that's where I screwed up. I heard Jason say, "CHEEEESE," looked over, and saw him chewing. I looked down, and the de-sauced cheese had disappeared from my plate.
Ohhhh, dear. I know we make out & all that, but there are just some ways you shouldn't ever swap spit. He hasn't taken anything off my plate since.
He has since gotten his revenge, though.
I got out of the shower, like any other day (okay, more like "any other once-a-week"). I grabbed the dark red washcloth to dry my face off first, and Jason walked in.
"April... where did you get that washcloth?"
"The towel hamper. Do I... do I even want to know why you have that look on your face?"
"That's the towel I used to clean up all that chocolate milk I spilled."
"You mean the chocolate milk that you spilled two weeks ago?!! I've just been re-hydrating old milk and rubbing it all over my face for the past 20 days?! HOW DID THIS END UP IN THE BATHROOM??!"
"I guess we're even for the sucked-cheese incident...?"
I suppose that makes us even, but I'd prefer to phrase it another way: it's my turn, buddy.