Why do people get offended so easily? I went to a case-lot sale yesterday. I didn't comb my hair or anything because I was so excited to get to the store before everyone else. It was super-awesome. I'm sure I looked like a gem, with wild hair and make-up just on one eye (the left one). Anyway, there was a wind in my sails; I felt like I could fly because sometimes there's nothing quite like saving money so we can still make the house payment.
While walking through the store, I saw a huge sign for chicken soup--that sounded fantastic with carrots and chicken in REAL broth--so I bought a huge case of the stuff. I even saved 75%; see why it's good to shop early! Too bad when I got home, Clam Chowder filled the case NOT Chicken Noodle soup.
I called my friend, "Hey, I thought it was chicken noodle. I can't hack this stuff, though. But since I know you, I figured your family might like it. You seem like a clam lover."
Then, that woman--who I wanted to give a whole case of 75%-off soup to--FOR FREE--acted all butt-hurt. "I seem like . . . a clam lover?" she asked, as if that's worse than going to Hell. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"That you love clams . . ." I paused trying to make things better, "and you look like it."
"What made you think that?" she asked and I decided, she should be a lawyer.
"Ummm . . . well, I guess it's because you're so . . . tough and so are clams."
"Clams aren't tough. They're elasticy."
"That's what I meant. 'Cause clams are elasticy and you're so good at bouncing back from bad things. You're a . . . survivor, like a clam."
"Like the dead clams in the soup you want to give me?"
"But you don't like clams?" she said. "And you're comparing me to them . . . because I'm tough?"
"But I'm like a clam?"
The conversation went nowhere fast. I just wanted to get rid of some soup, not a good friend! What could I say to get out of the bad situation? I could say mermaids like clams and she was beautiful like a mermaid . . . No, the last comparison had crashed and burned. I could say only the smartest people like clams, but then I'd sound like an idiot!
The point was, I'd just been trying to give her something she'd love and in a cutesy--fun, Elisa way. I didn't want to call and say in a monotone, "Do you want some clam chowder?"
"You're like a clam, but only in a good, great sense." I sighed into the phone. "Do you want the soup or not?"
"Yeah, I'll pick it up tonight."
"Is five good?" I asked.
"Hey," I said before she hung up because I couldn't help myself. "I'm glad you're a clam-lover."
"You got that right," she said before giggling into the phone. "You're fun to mess with."
"So are you," I said although I hadn't messed with anyone and she'd scared the crap out of me.
I'm still not sure why, but I'll never look at clam chowder the same again. I almost lost a friend over the stuff. Really thinking about it, it's no wonder I hate clams so much.