and other things i’m ashamed of
Y’all. We need to talk about the drive-thru.
Listen, I understand that you want to eat the nice hot fries as soon as they come out of the window, but there are things you aren’t considering. You’re just shoving your hand in there and pulling out a bunch of fried potatoes and shoving them into your mouth not realizing that sometimes you’re eating my fries along with yours. See, they section the fries off into little individual boxes, and you have your fries and I have mine, and maybe I want to save them to eat with my sandwich. The only reason I’m putting my hand into the bag and shoving fries into my mouth now is because you’ve upset the balance of fries, and I know when we get back to the apartment you’re gonna give me the box with the smaller amount of fries and it isn’t fair because you ate all of the fries out of that one already.
I hate it when people eat my fries.
I get anxiety just thinking about people eating my fries. And, yeah, maybe I’ve eaten some fries on my way home and then tried to pass the smaller amount of fries off as yours by not showing you that I actually have the pristine box of fries dumped into my plate. That doesn’t make it right. Don’t use me for your role model. Just know that I hate a fry stealer. The other weekend, when that comic ate all of my fries and all of Bearden’s fries? We almost cried in the parking lot. We were robbed.
And the reason I just don’t eat them all on the way home like you do is because I want to save my fries to have with my food. Or maybe, just maybe, I’m driving and can’t shovel ’em in as fast as you can.
I hate that I get anxiety just ordering more than one batch of fries. I hate hearing Eric say “No, I don’t want any; I’ll just eat some of yours.” NO! Get your own fries! Don’t eat mine! If you want fries– order fries! Just order a small one! Then you know that once the fries in the small box are gone, then you’re out of fries! That’s it! No more fries for you!
If I give you my fries, saying that I’m full, that’s one thing. But if you just reach your hand across the table and start pulling out my fries and putting them into your starchy maw– I’m gonna get pissed! Stop with the theft!
Y’all. I almost killed Rob’s baby, and I feel just terrible about it. You’d think I could just order a baby-warming gift and have it sent and have the Rom-Hud house filled with love, but no. I’ve got to send him a baby-killer. Even though when I looked at the toy, I thought “That looks pretty dangerous…” but then Rob was all, “I want it,” so I sent it anyway. See? I have the maternal instinct, but I’ll melt it just to make a boy happy. No kids for me.
Y’all. I move real soon. Like soon. I’m nervous as hell. What the hell was I thinking? Why haven’t any of you (aside from Nicole on the forum) tried to stop me? Man.
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