You know, I take the sport of opinion forming very seriously. I just feel like if you’re going to take the time to take a stand on something, you might as well go strong or go home.
A. gives me a hard time about it. He says that if I decide not to like something, best lock up the women and children because it’s on like Donkey Kong.
Take potato salad, for instance. I really don’t like it. I really, really don’t like. It’s difficult for me to even sit at a table where other people are eating it.
I can’t help it. I just feel very strongly about some stuff.
The flip side of that is what A. eye-rollingly refers to as my Obsession List. The stuff that I’ve decided to passionately and stalkerishly pursue with 173% of my energy and attention.
I’m currently rocking an Obsession List that’s several pages long. About a third of the way down page 2, you’ll find rice.
I don’t know what it is but I just can’t get enough of the stuff. I fry it, I boil it. I season it and I bake it. I’m -wait for it- obsessed with it.
