So often, I would pretend to enjoy the seeming pleasure and almost always conformed to the so-called rules of acceptable social behavior. Can’t tell you how many times I’ve looked at the women in my life—right in the eye, mind you, and emitted a moan of pleasure, coupled with a smile, as I softly whispered…”That was great!”
Well, the lies are over! Today I speak up and the secret will die.
Please don’t judge me for this—I know there are some who will feel betrayed. As if I were living a lie. Well, here goes…
I hate green bean casserole!
No, let me rephrase that. I hate green beans period. Every which way, shape or form.
Sure those nasty little pole dwellers have become chic of late. Middle America restaurant chains have embraced their color and cheapness and it seems cool to order a side. Oh don’t get me started. You can French-cut them, steam ‘em, top ‘em with soggy dehydrated onions or throw the damn things in a rich butter cream sauce. No matter—I will gag every time.
Well no more. Don’t care if it’s your granny’s recipe or you trekked out to the field and picked the miserable suckers yourself, I’m through. Never again will a green bean pass through my lips.
There I said it. Feel much better now….