Why I Choose to Eat My Own

If there is an occasion where I am asked to bring a food item or dessert, you can bank on the fact that out of the enormous amount of food items present I will choose to eat my own.

I’m not sure where this ranks on the Weirdness Scale, but since I am so very consistent in this habit (ask my friends and family), something inside me tells me that it is definitely strange and that it probably ranks a 3 or 4 on the W.S.

A score of 10 on the Weirdness Scale would be something along the lines of bringing a Pink Molded Tuna Mousse to a potluck. (#gag #Ijustthrewupalittle #Ineedtostoptalkingabouttunamousse #gagagain)

tuna mousse

I only bring this up because my brother was telling me about a potluck retirement dinner they had at their church on Saturday and a woman brought a pink molded tuna mousse to share. O-kay, I accept that this nasty, obviously alien-inspired creation might only rank as a 7 on the Weirdness Scale, but my brother also told me that the woman CALLED him the week before to make certain that no one else had signed up to bring a TUNA MOUSSE. (That confirmation call kicked this tuna mousse right on up to a 10 on the W.S.)

What planet is this person from? Who eats this stuff? (#justthrewupalittle #again) Am I the weird one?

I may score a 3 (possible 4) for always choosing to eat my own potluck dish – but can you blame me when the world is full of  Pink Molded Tuna Mousse bringers? (#hurlinginthebowl)

IS this weird? Would you eat Tuna Mousse?

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