When my wife found some of those new Chicken & Waffles flavored potato chips in the grocery store, she was very excited. No, chicken and waffles is not her favorite dish. She’s never had chicken and waffles in her life. The first time she saw it on a menu, she thought it was a misprint. She’s never come close to trying it at a restaurant.
It’s all about the potato chip. For a long time, her entire adult life, at least, she has fantasized about new and exotic potato chip flavors. She tells me that they should make a this-and-that-flavored chip. I nod and agree. Sometimes they actually do come out with her flavor, or one resembling it. Then she gets upset and asks me why I didn’t submit her idea first, when we still could have been made rich by it. I shrug and apologize.
Whether or not they stole her idea for their newest flavor, she wants to taste it. She wants to have experienced every potato chip flavor known to mankind. Chicken & Waffles was never her idea, which spared me a scolding, and that is the best thing I can say about it.
I came in from the garage with the last load of groceries to find her slumped over the kitchen sink.
ME: “What’s wrong?”
WIFE: (Gagging noise.) “Oh my God, they’re wretched.” (Gagging noise.)
ME: “What is?”
WIFE: (Hacking into the sink, points at the newly opened bag of chips on the counter beside her.) “Get me some juice!”
ME: “I told you it was a horrible idea.”
WIFE: (Between hacks.) “Don’t talk! Get juice!”
ME: “What kind of juice?”
WIFE: “JUICE! NOW!”
ME: “Here.” (Handing her a glass of juice.)
WIFE: (Downs juice in three gulps. Turns to me with watering eyes.) “That is the worst thing I’ve ever put in my mouth. I’ve never had anything so wretchedly horrible. There’s never been a food so awful. It literally made me puke.” (She picks up the bag and shoves it into my chest.) “You have to try one.”