My favorite comfort food is Kraft Mac and Cheese.
If I’m sick or hungover, or having a bad day, or it’s a day of the week that ends in a y, I’ll happily powder cheese it up in a bowl as big as my face.
And nobody better say anything about that shit.
But Danny had a problem with the blue box. Specifically, he a problem with his wife, my friend Jessica, eating what he thought was too much in one sitting.
Danny and Jessica had been together for two years and were married for just six months when Danny’s true colors came out. (Date for at least a decade people!!!)
Danny was a control freak.
Now, there are some good things about control freaks, like they always have clean clothes on and show up places on time.
But when the freak comes out in regards to someone’s KRAFT MAC AND CHEESE INTAKE???
OH HELL NAW.
Jessica didn’t even see it coming. Like most 20-somethings, she made an ooey, gooey delicious pot and ate it until she was full, and put the leftovers in a Tupperware container in the fridge.
Danny came home, surveyed the amount of leftovers, and popped a blood vessel.
He actually took the plastic container and marched into the living room where Jessica was watching TV, and waved it in her face.
“THIS? …IS ALL YOU HAVE LEFT?!!!?” Danny asked, angrily, shaking the container. “THIS MUCH??? RIDICULOUS!!”
Jessica was taken aback.
“What are you talking about?” she said.
Danny was irate.
“YOU KNOW, MY FRIEND BEN CAME OVER THE OTHER DAY AND I MADE MAC AND CHEESE AND WE BOTH ATE IT AND HAD MORE LEFTOVERS THAN WHAT YOU HAVE BY YOURSELF!”
“So what?” Jessica asked.
“DO YOU KNOW HOW FAT YOU’LL BE IF YOU EAT LIKE THIS???” he asked, still waving the container like a fist.
(Jessica, for the record, weighs no more than 120 pounds.)
Danny decided the conversation was OVER and walked back to the kitchen as Jessica moved to their bedroom to watch TV away from the effing macaroni police.
(Blue box blues indeed!)
That particular confrontation ended up being instrumental in them splitting up (thank God), a clear sign that Danny was out of control with his need to be in control.
Because while some control freak behavior could maybe, sort of, kind of be twisted around to be justified…by a long shot…like demanding that you take down a Facebook album of you and your ex’s vacation (uh…whatever), blowing one’s top over Kraft Mac and Cheese leftovers will never be OK.
If I were Jessica, I’d buy the FAMILY PACK, eat my fill and pour the rest into his (well-polished, lined up perfectly under the dresser) shoes.
Right near the toe, so he wouldn’t see it, he’d just feel the squish.
Omg he’d totally freak out.