Monday, December 12, 2011

The Hunger Games

Today my lovely fiance decided to fart on me....again...probably for the millionth time ever. Then, I remembered a blog that I was going to write about him, but never did. So, here it goes.

Back in November, prior to Thanksgiving, we were in Tampa the night before we boarded our Carnival cruise (My grandparents took us on a cruise for their 50th wedding anniversary). While we were in Tampa, my whole family (cousins, aunts, uncles and grandparents included) went walking downtown to find a restaurant. We found a fancy, organic pizza restaurant and all went in to order. Everyone seemed to either order something personally or we were paired up with "pizza buddies," as I like to refer to them. For some reason, I volunteered to be paired up with Kyle and my brother, Brent. Together, we would share some organic, thin-crusted pepperoni pizza. When the pizza arrived, I was talking with my parents about something and I was also waiting on a plate. The rest of this story happened in slow motion. There I am talking, and I look over to see a ton of this pizza demolished -- gone, nihil. My jaw dropped and my Maslow's Hierarchy of needs crashed. Food!!! They were totally taking it from me. Not just some of it -- all of it. So, I started yelling, "Hey! Hey! Let me have some pizza!!" So, they gave me one, small, square piece. Oh no, I wasn't having this. I demanded another piece, and then, the pizza was gone.
There I was, failing at this hunger game. So, in short, Kyle farts on me and deprives me of food. No, just kidding. I just like to give him crap. I actually really love him and am excited to marry him :). Speaking of Kyle, he just woke up from one of his notorious naps. Guess what he dreamed about? Pizza. Not kidding.

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