Friday, May 8, 2009

Kick Her Or Kiss Her?

I hate loud chewers. I don't know how else to say it. There's nothing that irks me more. Whether it's the smacking sound of a mushy banana sticking to the roof of someones mouth or the rubbery pop of cooked fish, constantly clinging to a pair of back molars, I absolutely cringe at the thought. I can hardly sit down at the dinner table without putting on some background music. Don't even think of eating popcorn next to me in the movie theater unless you let those bastard kernels melt in your mouth or swallow them whole. You need to take a drink? Please use a straw and give me some notice so I can start humming. I immediately become consumed by the clatter. It's like thousands of tiny little audible needles raining down upon me, simultaneously piercing my eardrums until they explode. Holy shit. It just annoys the snot out of me.

I'm sorry. I know this sounds messed up. I'm pretty sure my pet peeve comes as a result of years of eating meals in front of the television with my little brother. I remember watching Happy Days, Threes Company and Different Strokes in the living room while chomping away on Salisbury steak TV Dinners. Those were the days. I can still taste that gravy goodness.

My parents got divorced when I was young and as a result, we rarely ate a proper meal at the table as a family. I don't remember this being a bad thing but I'm pretty sure It's ground zero for my "no chew zone" angst. I guess I just never got comfortable sitting and eating with other people. As long as there's some white noise, I'm fine. PB J's in the school cafeteria? No problem. Picnic at the beach? I'm there. Hot Dog and Knish combo during the Hockey game? I'm buying. But please, please, I'm begging you, don't make me eat meatloaf and mashed potatoes with Uncle Flap Jaw and Aunt Gum Gum again. It makes me want to fucking cut my own head off with a table spoon.

Until now...

video

Ahhhh. Finally a cure and I have an open prescription. I can listen to that sweet sound all day long. There's a fine line between kick her or kiss her. Screw you Mr. Drummond! Piss off Potsy Webber! This time I've got you and your stinking Salisbury Steak Out-Numbered...