“I asked God for a bike, but I know God doesn’t work that way. So I
stole a bike and asked for forgiveness.”
Foo Foo. It’s a generic term for all things feminine such as fruit, nuts, anything pink, organic, yogurt, health food, anything devoid of taste, any food product with words like organic, natural or healthy on the label and so forth and so on.
All things not associated with testosterone. Male stuff. Man stuff. Red meat. Potatoes. Butter. Bread. Sugar. Stuff with fat. Artery cement. Stuff like that.
Foo Foo makes my skin crawl. Scares me. I think.
So this morning Gaby rather blithely informs me she made ice cream last night.
Immediately alarms go off. This is not gonna be good.
What kind of ice cream I ask. Not really wanting to know. Because I already know.
IT’S FOO FOO ICE CREAM.
Oh God. Please help me. Don’t let her ask me to taste it. Please.
She made it with fat free milk, almond extract, a banana, some other stuff I barely recognize. She says. I want you to taste it and give me your opinion.
This is not going to end well for me.
If I do the sensible thing and tell her it is good………………she’ll keep making it and expecting me to eat it. Forget Blue Bell Homemade Vanilla. And thus would begin the emasculation of Bob.
Come on Bob. Don’t be such a sissy. Just one taste and then tell me what you think.
Please God, help me. PLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEASE………
Oh come on you big baby. Here we go.
It tastes awful. A conundrum. If I tell her truth, I could end up in the dog house for several days. And, I’ll probably be reminded of this insult 5 years from now, at which time I will have absolutely no idea what she’s talking about. Defenseless.
If I choose the lesser of two evils and advise her its fine, I’ll be eating this stuff for the rest of my life.
Send flowers. And Blue Bell.
“I didn’t say it was your fault, I said I was blaming you.”