Health Nut

So I'm in Round Table Pizza, looking *really* noble ordering just a salad to go.

Then, when I'm satisfied that no one's looking, I concoct a pile of almost equal parts lettuce, cheddar cheese, ranch, and those really awesome super-calorific croutons that you can only get in restaurants. So you can imagine my dismay, dear reader, to find only five lone croutons laying dejected at the bottom of their little plastic crouton-home.

Sheepishly, I have to ask the clerk to refill the bucket. (Classy joint, eh?) There was a time in my life when I would have been embarrassed. But now I figure you may as well own shit like this so no one thinks you did it on accident. Like you don't know you're a big slobby, crouton-hoarding, cheese maniac. Or worse yet, like you've actually tricked yourself into thinking that you're all Kate Moss-ish and shit, and you truly believe that your salad is any healthier than ordering a damn pizza. Cause, trust me, if defending your food choices actually dispersed the calories, I would be one skinny motherfucker.

Me: Yea, I know. I'll be damned if I don't try to deep fry this shit on the way out the door.

Pizza guy who, naiively, thinks I'm talking about the croutons: Well, at least you don't cover it with bacon and cheese!

Me: *Points to Mount Everest o' cheese*

Pizza Dude: Oh. Actually, the worst things on this salad bar are bacon bits and the olives.

Me: *Thinks about all the horrible shit that is actually on display at the salad bar* k.

I shovel on my croutons and leave.


And, boys and girls, the moral of this story is: oh, em, gee - OLIVES?! I felt like I was in an M. Night Shalksjdaflkj movie or something. Really, who saw that one coming?