We were talking the other night about marriage. We like to think we’re pretty good at it so far. We do a lot of married things, but also are just such good friends we love being around each other. We bicker all the time – we think it’s funny to always disagree, make bets, impose punishments, google things and learn. But we don’t fight. Not a lot. When we do though, is what we were talking about. MK made me realize that I do the most hilarious thing on the planet every time we fight.

I make him let me win, and he can only redeem himself by taking me out to dinner. MK doesn’t cook, so he hates eating out for anything more than a 2$ taco. To him (duh) it’s so much easier to  sit around at home and wait for me to cook.

So the thing is, I don’t let him take me just anywhere. I apparently have repeatedly forced the man to take me to: The Olive Garden.

Let me be very clear about something, I don’t mean to offend anyone with this. We went there growing up every once in a while and it was considered a treat (wait, that just helps the point I’m about to make…). But the fact of the matter is- Olive Garden is pretty white trash. I mean super white trash. There’s got to be a better way to put it than that, but that’s all I can think of. Going there for dinner for me is like watching a really trashy reality TV show. You look around and everyone is drinking White Zinfandel and Blushes (PINK WINE!) and hiding breadsticks in their purses to bring home (guilty) and yelling at the kids as they throw crayons at each other and run around the table screaming their lungs out.

But it can’t really be white trash because every time we eat there we end up with a 40$ bill. For noodles that I TOTALLY could have made at home. That’s why I like it. You make me mad, you let someone else make the pasta. And I get some free entertainment.