Open Mouth, Insert Foot. Cuz You're Sure Not Getting Any Of My Food.

     So I'm working on making breakfast, browning up some sausage and Mike comes into the kitchen.

• Mike: "Ooooh! I want the burned piece." *swipes piece of sausage* 

• Me: "Seriously? It's not burnt, its browned."

• Mike: *under his breath* "Well it's OVER browned."

• Me: "What did you say?? Mother fucker, get the FUCK out of my kitchen!"

• Mike: "But I..."

• Me: "OUUUUT!"

Moral of the story? Don't talk shit about my cooking. Especially when I feed you SO well.