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Thursday, November 29, 2007

Turophobia



I am often told that my list of my most-hated foods is bizarre. I disagree. Judge for yourself.

I despise the following foods:

ice cream (tastes like cold milk)

pasta (tastes like flour and play-dough that has been boiled)

chocolate (tastes literally like dirt)

olives (tastes like salty and vinegary eyeballs)

mushrooms (tastes like the fungus they are)

mayonnaise (tastes like bad eggs and vinegar that have sat in my car for the summer)

chicken wings (tastes like bony things covered in some weird red sauce)

cookies (tastes like sugary, floury crumble discs)

cakes (tastes like baked sugar goo covered in an outer layer of sugary goo)

pie (tastes like hot sugar goo baked inside hard dough prison cell)

sour cream (tastes like milk for people that think that whole milk is too watered down and weak)


BUT more than all of these things combined, I despise cheese. I stop just shy of calling it turophobia but it's awfully close. The sight of cheese makes me nervous and the smell of cheese sends me running in the opposite direction. Central Market is forever in my bad graces for building a section of the store devoted entirely to what is essentially milk that has gone bad and should have been thrown out long ago.

Which is why I am nervous about tonight's game. I am nervous that despite Green Bay's miserable running game, Brett Favre has a good arm still. And I am afraid of the bombs he may lob down the field. But more than that, I am afraid I will see assholes in the crowd with their cheese heads on.

Imagine you ate some really bad seafood salad and never want to speak of seafood salad again. Then imagine that the Seattle Seahawks decide that their fans should now be called "Seafood Salad Stars" and all you see during Cowboys v. Seahawks games is shots of humans wearing hats made to look like piles of seafood salad.

Prediction: Cowboys 31, Green Bay 28

Prediction #2: If I am wrong and Green Bay wins, the Green Bay defensive line will grab a Gatorade cooler and douse Brett Favre in queso. And I will cry. For two reasons.

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