Fibber

A few years ago, when Don and I were dating, I was at his apartment making a milkshake. I had the ice cream, milk, and oreos all set out on the counter. My first mistake was thinking I needed to use the entire sleeve of cookies in order to make this treat extra special. After the blender was going for awhile I noticed that the mixture was too thick (because of the 15 oreos I crammed in there) so I figured I'd better help things along. Here is where my second mistake was made: for some reason, unbeknownst to me, I decided to break up the clumps with a knife. While the blender was on. Yep- I, a girl of 20 and with much experience in milkshake-making and blending in general, stuck a metal knife in an operating kitchen appliance.

When Don came in, it was to this scene: me with globs of milkshake in my hair and on my glasses, standing next to a blender oozing brown goo from a hole in its side. He asked what happened, and when I didn't answer right away (because I was trying to decide how to not show what a dope I can be to this boy whom I was hoping would someday be my eternal companion), he went on to say, "Oh, did that just break?" At that instant I had an epiphany: just go along with this story. He'll believe it because the blender was a cheapo Wal Mart one, and that makes me come across as the innocent victim of Sunbeam Appliance's faulty manufacturing practices. So I replied in the affirmative, and proceeded to give a flimsy account of rouge blades and weak materials, all the while hoping he wouldn't notice the slightly bent knife and corresponding hole shape.

After much sympathy and reassuring words, I was comforted and we went on to joke about why the heck I used so many cookies, when probably four or five would have been plenty. In my shame I kept the truth of this incident locked within my heart, until sufficient time had passed (i.e. after the wedding).