Forgive me, blog buddies. I have been remiss in relaying the issues resolved for the good of mankind at the Semi-Weekly Meeting of the Newmentia Lunch Time Think Tank.
Oh, we've still been having our meetings. Just last week, over a questionable repast of haystacks, or open-faced tacos with a side of Doritos in a snack bag, it was determined that my cousin Tomato Squirter has not changed her stripes. Just when I had stopped experiencing anxiety every time she sat down on my left...a new incident reminded me to remain ever-vigilant.
Yes, it's been a couple of years now since TS chomped down on a cherry tomato, and squirted seeds all over my left arm and shoulder, including the sleeve and pocket of my shirt. I was slowly returning to normal, the incidents of post traumatic stress growing fewer, and farther between. Until last week on haystack day.
There I was, chowing down on a ham sandwich, as happy as Gizmo in Gremlins tooting his little Christmas horn...when TS had to be big bad Stripe, and hock a loogie on my face. Okay. She didn't exactly spit on me. What she did was rip open her tube of sour cream and spray it all over my arm. Oh, she grabbed her paper towel and wiped me down like a sweaty racehorse. But still. I prefer not to go through the afternoon smelling like spoiled milk, and I also prefer (unlike some folks around here) not to use the faculty restroom sink as my shower.
Today I brought leftover Chinese food in my lunch. A little white rice, a little fried rice, a little sweet & sour sauce, a little chicken, a little pork, and three crab rangoons. It was all mixed together in an opaque plastic container that once held a small order of hot & sour soup. Except for the rangoons, which were on the side. Mmm...tasty Chinese food that was only three days old, while TS sat down to her school lunch (after running around to the aid of her fundraiser club people in crisis) of crispito, corn, and fruit. It's a wonder I wasn't sprayed with condiments again.
The bell rang far too soon. I still had a layer of rice and pork in the bottom of my container. I slapped the lid on to take it back to my room. Tomato Squirter stood up. "Huh. There was rice on my chair. When was the last time we had rice?"
"I don't know. Do you think it could be from my CHINESE FOOD I brought for lunch?"
"Oh. Well, I'm wearing black pants. You won't be able to see it anyway."
I declare. I think TS was insinuating that I had put rice on her seat deliberately! When in fact, I don't even remember losing a single morsel to my left. She's got some nerve, that Tomato Squirter.
Rice won't show up on black pants? What a whackadoo she is.
ReplyDeleteSioux,
ReplyDeleteYou are not the first person to draw that conclusion. I want to know how she said it was in the chair if it was stuck to her pants. If she saw it on the chair, why did she sit on it? And if she already sat on it, would it not be on her pants, not the chair? What was it, some magic kind of rice that sticks to what is convenient for lunch-shaming?