Man I dig lasagne!
I've always had crazy eating habits. I think it started with sticking my black olives on my fingertips.
The insanity progressed with the way I absent-mindedly ate each food on my plate one-at-a-time, always ending up with the food I liked most. Beans, taco, rice. Pancakes, bacon, eggs. Hot dog, french fries, fruit.
And heaven help us if the food was touching! I had to make canyons between my foods before I would eat them.
Except for the corn and potatoes. I had seen my Uncle David mix the two. Trusting his taste ever since the Crunch Sandwich, I tried it, and liked it! Other than that, I didn't mix food for quite awhile.
I didn't always have corn to mix with my potatoes and I don't eat gravy. I've always just added a little extra butter to my potatoes, and thus is the result for one of my big eyebrow-raising food feats.
In school, we always got one pat of butter. I used to make a little well for the butter, much as people do for their gravy. Soon, I discovered that if I put the butter in the well and then covered it with potatoes, I could get the butter to melt much faster.
One day, I noticed that if I smashed my potato pile just right, the butter would ooze out of the pile. It became a regular game to see just how far I could get it to squirt.
The school cafeteria is also where I formed a couple of other rather disgusting habits. Rather than just eat rolls and Jello like a normal person, I would pick the bread apart and end up rolling it into a ball.
And Jello was eaten right out of my hand. Well, more like inhaled. Because there's nothing funnier than watching stuff jiggle as it is vaccuumed into a mouth.
Rolls aren't the only thing I pick at. I don't really bite into anything. Sandwiches, hamburgers, Hot Pockets . . . if I'm not using a fork, I tear it with my fingers and then put it in my mouth.
French fries, I dip in mustard. Because, I flippin' love mustard, dude!
Speaking of dipping . . . If we happen to be sharing any sort of salsa, queso, fondue, etc and you double-dip? I'll cut you, man!
My favorite through my whole life has been lasagne. But even that holy Italian treasure can't be saved from my freakishness.
I've had lasagne for two birthday dinners in a week, which also means I've lived on birthday leftovers, so I've had plenty of practice at the lasagne ritual.
I first eat about one-third of the serving whole. I make sure to get a few perfect bites of the meal before I tear into it.
Then it's time for the dissection. I pull out all the noodles and eat them. They're really probably my favorite part, which is why I like to eat lasagne with Mitch. He likes the meat part so I get his noodles.
Once the noodles are gone, I pile the meat and cheese goo onto my bread. (Of course there's bread! There's always garlic bread with lasagne!)
For some reason, this ritual brought looks of shock from both my father and BJ.
While Dad's mouth hung open , staring at my concoction, I covered my masterpiece with my hand.
"You have been watching me eat like this for twenty-seven years, now! You can't seriously be surprised!"
Click here to see pictures from a more rowdy birthday dinner.
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