Nachos of Unimaginable Laziness

I've eaten nothing but sharp cheddar cheese, taco sauce, and tortilla chips for 3-4 days now. I put shredded cheese into a bowl, dump on a shitload of taco sauce, lay on my bed, and shove the masterpiece into my face with chips.

I eat the world's laziest nachos.

Husband: "Didn't you eat that for breakfast?"

Me: "What of it?"

Husband: "Wait. You ate that for dinner last night, too."

Me: "..."

Husband: "Give me the taco sauce."

Me: "Step off." And then I run my dairy-fied ass up the stairs and out of sight.

I don't know what the hell is wrong with me. I am a real person with a real job and everything. I'm not a homeless person or 4 years old--I just have no idea what real people eat for food. All I have in my pantry is frosting and pasta hidden behind my altar of toasted corn triangles.

I feel like an asshole at the grocery store when I look at other people's carts, and they're all, "FRUITS, VEGETABLES, GRAINS, NUTS, PROTEIN, WATER, ALL NATURAL PRODUCTS AND HAPPINESS."

My cart is filled with, "SODA, CHIPS, 4 JARS OF TACO SAUCE, 6 BAGS OF SHREDDED CHEESE, AEROSOL CHEMICALS, NECESSITY OF A SOCIAL SERVICES VISIT."

They judge me, as they stand in line sadly, "Oh, look at that sad, oily, 12 year old buying her shitty food for her shitty sleepover." Yeah, no, I'm 23 years old and married with nice shit and about as much nutritional value as sugar-coated acid-filled baby tears.

Donkey Punchers: Ruining the Lives of Servers

You know what’s an inappropriate phrase to use in any social situation?

Donkey Punch.

Let me set the scene for you.

My husband and I took my sister to lunch at our favorite Mexican Food Restaurant in Dallas yesterday. I won’t tell you the name of it, but it rhymes with Ma Macienda Manch. They have a frequenter card, but the stamps aren’t plain circle punches--they look like burros.

We asked our waiter what the stamp was. He relayed a story of having to hunt down a manager to find out, and in the spirit of contribution, I said—rather loudly—“Bring me the donkey puncher!”

I knew the second the word left my mouth what I had done. I wheezed the air out of my lungs in response to my own idiocy, and laughed myself into tears.  The waiter and my husband stared at me, wordlessly. My sister, as awkward as myself, burst into laughter. Mother of Mary and Joseph, what the hell did I just say. I’m now that girl.

"She must have been drinking," you say? No. I'm just completely socially inept. This is not a new story for me; this is not even something that phased most people I know as out-of-character for me. I am incapable of not offending people in most standard social situations. What to wear, what to say, who to speak to—Awkward Queen reigns like Oprah reigns the housewives.