Friday, March 18, 2005

Does Not Play Well With Others

Most people know that when I want to, I can really pack it in when it comes to food. In college, Trish and I would make regular use of Little Caesar's Pizza Pizza dealie -- one large pizza for each of us, and an order of Krazy Bread. I'd polish off my share within, oh, 30 minutes. Meanwhile, Trish would make her pizza and Krazy Bread last for the rest of the semester. You should just know: I like a LOT of food. I believe it's called "volume eater" in mental health circles. Some people go for quality. Some people go for quantity. If that's wrong, I don't wanna be right.

So, last night, the Mr. and I went to the Second-Best Burger Joint We Know Of, Five Guys. In case you're wondering, The Best is, of course, In N' Out. While Five Guys is great, the Mr. and I feel we can't even consider them for The Best position, because they don't sell milkshakes. What the hell is that all about, anyway? But as long as Five Guys is comfortable with second place, then that's their choice. At least the food is super fresh and yummy.

We sauntered up to the counter, and I placed my cheeseburger order, which was the equivalent of the glorious Double Double at In N' Out. Then I asked for a regular fries. Now, Five Guys gives a LOT of fries. They fill the little cup, and then they dump in a handful extra. Lucky thing, because both the Mr. and I happen to like a LOT of fries.

After the Mr. ordered, the cashier asked him, "Do you want fries, too?" The Mr. looked at me, ready to have me share my thoughts on that, which were approximately: "Yes, get your own damn fries." Before I could vocalize that, the cashier said, "One regular order is plenty." OH, IS IT, Judgy Judgerson? Have you ever seen me eat? Plenty for a wuss like you, maybe. For me, it's just a start. And your boss probably wouldn't be too happy to know you were talking people out of ordering more food. But of course, having been informed that it's plenty, and already having ordered a massive burger, I felt a little awkward insisting on my own fries o' plenty.

After we received our order and settled at our table, the Mr. dumped the fries out of the bag. I grabbed one or two, then started in on the burger. Meanwhile, the Mr. is picking up fries by the handful and shoving them in his mouth at warp speed, ignoring his burger. I began to panic. I wanted to at least get a few bites of my burger before eating some fries. I didn't want to put it down and engage in a fry race, as I wasn't ready for the fries, but he's eating all the freaking fries. I knew this would happen. They were disappearing fast.

Panicked at the thought that if I continued to eat my burger and hold off on the fries, there wouldn't be any left, I lunged for a giant handful which was promptly tucked away so the Mr. wouldn't be able get to them. There was no other choice. What was supposed to be an enjoyable dinner quickly turned into a desperate fry-grab. I don't think the Mr. even knew he was in a race. He just happens to be the only person on the planet who eats faster than I do. You should see him.

Eventually, he took a few bites of his burger, then went in for yet more fries, even grabbing a few of the ones I had secreted away. I finally snapped. "You're taking more than your FAIR SHARE!" How does he put up with me?

So, really, when you're out with me? Get your own food. I'm not sharing anymore. Nyeah.