Warning: Random ramblings ahead

This post is mostly just an excuse to not do homework. Please enjoy my ramblings, brought to you by the gods of procrastination.

War of the Dip 2

Last week, Eric and I were arguing (again) about The Dip. He had just got back from the store and was making yet another batch. I told him before he left that we already had cream cheese and butter in the fridge (the main ingredients in this super-healthy snack).

He was in the middle of making it when he suddenly exclaimed, “This is mixing like paste!” He tasted it and made a face. “It tastes weird!”

He then accused me of sabotaging his precious dip with substandard butter. “This isn’t the butter I usually use.”

I squinted at it. “I didn’t buy that. I always buy the store brand.”

We then had a long, pointless argument about where this butter came from. He claimed I bought it; I said no way could I have bought it because I always buy the store brand. He always buys the name brand, ergo the gross butter must belong to him. He was about to retort when he looked at butter package and said accusingly, “It’s expired!”

“I don’t know!” I said defensively. “I thought you’d just bought it, I didn’t even look.”

“I DIDN’T BUY THIS BUTTER.”

And around we went again. Of course by this point we descended into ridiculous insults wherein he claimed my baking sucks because I use generic butter.

Sputtering, I responded with, “The only thing that sucks around here is you, because you’re a sucker for wasting money on name brand butter!”

He came to halt and repeated slowly, “‘The only thing that sucks around here is you because you’re a sucker.'”

I had to laugh. “Shut up! It makes sense.”

That’s marriage, folks. No need for a winner, we resolve our debates with laughter. Although clearly I won.

(In case you’re wondering, he ended up making another trip to the store to get his precious name brand butter and declared the next batch of dip as the best one yet. Tastes the same to me.)

P.S. or Why I need meds to get through life

Actual conversation I had with the Starbucks barista in my office (yes, there’s a Starbucks in my office. I know, right?):

It was the end of the day on Friday so the pastry options were slim pickins’. Then I spotted a lone slice of raspberry swirl pound cake. My mouth filled with saliva.

Me: May I have that lonesome little raspberry swirl pound cake?
Her: You sure can.
Me: Yay! It looks so sad and lonely. It needs to be in my mouth.
IT NEEDS TO BE IN MY MOUTH.
I should just not talk to people.