"If I get up to get you something to eat, it's going to be the hamburger I made."
"I'll eat it only if it comes with lettuce, tomato, pickle, and onion...."
Interrupting my train of thought,
"We don't have any lettuce or tomatoes."
"So basically you're telling me your idea of a hamburger is a piece of meat and bread? How the hell is that a hamburger?"
Hearing the unintelligible dialog from the kitchen, I ignore her and tell her,
"I don't want a hamburger."
She brings me some chili, which is nice, except for one thing: she put the hamburger patty IN the chili she severed me.
"What the fuck is this? I said 'No hamburger!'"
Blasphemy. No shit.
I have never put a hamburger patty in my chili.
In fact, I only eat my chili with crackers or bread. Chili dogs are another beast all together.
Then she has the intelligence, or lack thereof, to tell me that maybe the hamburger patty will make the chili taste better. Uh no. Her hamburger meat is more or less bland, and in all sincerity is only acceptable with a full range of condiments at one's disposal.
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| Whatever I do, it won't be worse than this picture. |
I thought it was totally fair to flip out, since I have never ever done what she has done to chili. Maybe one of these days I should take a banana and put it in her cereal or cook her up some cold-ramen-noodles.
That'll teach her.
It's either that or taking a dump in her coco-puffs and telling her it's chocolate enhancer.
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