I can not eat cheese. Or any dairy for that matter. It DOES NOT like me, and I have very luke-warm feelings towards it. I eat soy cheese. Soy milk (occasionally). I have even eaten soy ice cream. Yes they sell that in my little neck of the woods.
We sometimes (ok-way more than we should) order takeout. There are two places we order from that require specific instructions; Casa Ole and Papa John's. No cheese, no cheese, no cheese. About half of the time, there will be cheese on my order. It's a chance you take.
On one particular night, I made the decision to order pizza. When it arrived, my pepperoni had cheese on it. wow, shocking. So I called Papa back. I sat on hold for about ten minutes, and then the guy hung up on me. wow, dissappointing. My calm and rational husband took the phone and called back, while I made a grilled soy cheese sandwich.
I ate my sandwich feeling all sorry for myself and waited for my cheeseless pizza to arrive. BTW we are rolling up on two hours past me ordering the first pizza. Ten minutes after consuming, my stomach begin to ache. Like I had eaten cheese. I thought back over what I had eaten that afternoon. No, nothing suspect. Then I went to the fridge. Yes, I had accidentally made my sandwich with REAL cheese. wow, ironic defined.
Did I mention I had an early appointment the next morning?
Friday, December 5, 2008
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