This is a true story.
My dear husband, after a long day of work, decided to come home last night and cook up one of his famous homemade pizzas. God bless him!
Last night's dish was super doughy and garlic-y, with yummy sauce and delicious salami. Or so I thought.
As I polish off the last slice, Ian turns to me and casually says, "You know, you really need to zip up the plastic wrap better around the salami. It wasn't zipped all the way and it didn't look so good. In fact, I think you should take the meat off of Marley's slice."
Mind you, this is AFTER I have consumed three pieces of pizza with generous portions of the suspect salami. Oh yeah, and I'm SIX MONTHS PREGNANT.
I say, "Are you seriously telling me the salami I've just eaten is BAD?"
"Well, it's cooked, so it's probably okay, but you really need to ziplock the meat bag better," he says.
"What, so this is MY fault?" I ask, now bewildered and panicky.
Ian, "Yes, you need to zip up the meat better. And if it was bad, why was it in the fridge?"
"Dude, if it was BAD, why in the hell did you put it on our DINNER?" I ask.
As if this wasn't bad enough, after we do the dishes--just to rub it in--Ian says, "Let me show you something," and takes the bag of bad salami out of the fridge. Sure enough, it has turned a funky brown color. I start to gag.
"You put this meat on our PIZZA, then SHOWED it to me? Are you CRAZY?" I ask.
"Well, like I said, if you don't zip it up right, it will go bad."
Yes, ladies and gentlemen. Clearly, it was all MY FAULT that my husband served me a pizza with skanky salami on it. WTF???