I didn’t appreciate the condescending implication that he has more control than I do, but I admired the health-conscious logic and embarked on my snack session with the same vigilance and restraint. I was actually impressed by the fact that no matter how hard I shook and manipulated the bag, only one combo at a time could escape into my palm, allowing for a controlled, responsible snack experience.
20 seconds in:
Then I just got mad.
Nutrition has really taken a nosedive around these parts.
His birthday is on Thursday.
Two hours later….
When a man loves a sandwich:
Marriage is 40% about love and 60% about having someone around to stop you from eating a wheel of Gouda for dinner and then dipping potato chips in gelato.
Dear Apple Inc.,
Your iPhone product sucks. 50% of the time I go to use the Touch ID login, it doesn’t work. WTF? I thought you guys were supposed to be some kind of wizard geniuses.
Our data suggests that 95% of the time your Touch ID fails, it is due to the exorbitant amount of egg salad on your thumb. This egg salad obstruction impedes the device from accurately scanning your print. We are certain that if you learn to eat like a human, this will no longer be a problem.
Dear Apple Inc.,
Forks are for losers and a true lady eats her cold deli salads with a potato chip utensil, but I suppose I see your point re: the obstruction. I still think the technology should be sophisticated enough to scan through food or any other thick layer of grime that might be on my hand at any given moment.
You need more help than we here at Apple Inc. are qualified to provide.
Good luck in life,
“So, Fairway called me today. They want to know if you’re ok.” — Eric
Me: “So I think I figured out why I can’t stomach seafood, even though I really want to like it. I try so hard to find seafood I can eat, but I’m just so averse to it. Then this memory came back to me out of nowhere the other day, but it makes so much sense. When I was younger I went on vacation with my family. We left our goldfish at home, unattended, because…well, it was a goldfish, so whatever. When we came back, I was the first one to walk into the kitchen and see, there on the counter, right where we’d snack every day after school, the goldfish– on its side, dried up, shriveled, sad black eye staring at the ceiling. He had probably jumped out of his bowl on day 1, either with a grand plan for freedom or a suicidal death wish, and been crusting over there on the countertop for a week. He was so plastered to the marble that we needed a metal spatula to pry him off. At which point my dad turned to us and said, ‘Fish for dinner!’ Which of course, in hindsight, is hilarious, but at the time I’m pretty sure I was horrified. But anyway, don’t you think that makes so much sense as to why I can’t eat seafood?”
Therapist: “Well do you like the taste of seafood?”
Therapist: “So it’s probably just that. You don’t like how it tastes.”
We went to dinner last night and it took them over 45 minutes to deliver the drink we ordered as soon as we sat down. The drink ended up arriving AFTER the food. I was annoyed.
Me: “It’s just– I know this sounds weird but my favorite part of dining out is that pre-food cocktail, where your stomach is kind of empty and the drink feels warm in your belly and kind of goes straight to your head.”
Eric: “No, that’s not weird. I get that. A lot of people say that.”
Eric: “They’re all alcoholics, though.”