Enough Fighting! The Solution: Start From Common Ground

It seems like nowadays, there’s constant conflict with no end in sight between groups with opposing ideologies. “I’m right, you’re wrong” conversations based on judgment have overshadowed actual conversations focused on solutions, and enough is enough!
Instead of telling all of you fierce Democratic debaters and Republican retaliators that you’re wrong for your behavior, I’m here to present a solution.
In order to get anything done, it’s important to begin from a common origin – common ground, if you will – and the common ground is an issue I think we can all agree on: ambrosia salads need to be banished.
Forgotten.
Exiled to the annals of history.
And then those annals need to be burned.
If you disagree, you’re what’s wrong with the world today.

Thanksgiving is coming up, and for some reason, we all have a distant relative who decides it’s a great idea to bring a bowl of fruit, marshmallows, and some sort of creamy, disgusting, dairy-based mixture to keep the party going.
This is why you’re a distant relative, Aunt Patty!
Really, have you ever been to a holiday potluck and thought, “Thank god someone brought the ambrosia!”? You haven’t!
It’s one of those foods that’s there, but you only take one tiny scoop so as not to hurt anyone’s feelings.
Then people act surprised when there’s so much left over, and they try to pawn it off on everyone else.
“Take some home! There’s so much left over!”
There’s a reason: it looks like the after photo of what happens in a garbage disposal!

First of all, the name sounds like a skin condition – “Stop scratching! You’re making your ambrosia worse!” – but is actually more arrogant in origin.
It references the food of the Greek gods.
Point me to the immortal being who orders the ambrosia, because Zeus ain’t standing for that shit.
Your ass is banished from Mount Olympus!

Ambrosia salad is what you make when you’re broke and all you have left is Del Monte fruit cocktail, Cool Whip, marshmallows, and the pecans you found in the back of the cupboard from last year’s Thanksgiving.
If I were starving to death and you offered me ambrosia, I’d take a heaping spoonful of death.
How this dish keeps appearing on tables at holiday gatherings is beyond me.
When my mom makes sweet potatoes, people ask her to make it again the next year.
When someone makes ambrosia salad, people ask them to never come back:
“Maybe go spend next year with the other side of the family.”
But alas, they’re back, and with a fresh bowl of vomit, completely ignoring the explicit context clue that no one even touched their heaping bowl of why white people need to check themselves last year.
Yet, there they are.
“Guess what I broooooought! Everyone’s favorite!”
This needs to end.
Now.
Democrats!
Republicans!
Heed my words: ambrosia salads need banned, and that’s something you can all reach across the aisle about.
If President Trump tweeted his disdain for the dish, it would be his most liked and least controversial tweet EVER.

I’m not saying that banning ambrosia salad is going to unite all sides on all issues, but starting from common ground and working towards solving other, more controversial issues is much more productive than starting from dissenting points of view.
If we admit that we share a perspective with even our most fervent of detractors, the stereotypes that come to mind when we think of our rivals dissipate, and we see the human behind the label.
Unless the human likes ambrosia salad, in which case I hope they get struck by lightning. Twice for good measure. Because Zeus ain’t standing for that shit.

Trisha McGovern Reviews: Chipotle

Being longtime pizza purveyors, my family and I decided to order some from this neighborhood pizza place, if you can even call it that. This is Trisha McGovern here with another review, this time, I take on the Italian establishment, Chipotle. If you want to wait four hours for your pizza and then never get it, this is the place for you. Wanting an authentic taste of Italy in the comfort of our own home, we decided to indulge in the sensational flavors of fresh tomato sauce, crispy, flaky crust, and melty cheese. What we got was none of this. I placed my initial order at around 6:30 on a Friday night, so I understand if they’re busy, but by 8:00 we hadn’t received our pizza. When I called back to vent my frustrations, the girl who answered said, “We told you when you were ordering that we don’t serve pizza, but you wouldn’t listen.” This is a blatant lie! Not only was my pizza getting cold (if they even made it in the first place), but they were accusing me of not listening when they were the ones who didn’t listen. I placed my order a second time: large pepperoni, extra cheese, and thin crust, and expected to get a second pie for free for the inconvenience. Not only did I waste another two hours of my time, I never got the pizza! By this point, my twin four year old boys, Weymouth and Bellus, were getting fussy because they were hungry. I had to feed them wet paper towels thanks to this disgrace of a family pizza place. The Chipotle family should be ashamed of themselves, disgracing the long-standing reputation of an Italian heritage. When I called again, they refused to refund our bill because I “never ordered anything” so they “never charged us any money,” which is the poorest of the poor excuses as to why we shouldn’t get our money back. When I asked to speak with a manager, the manager I spoke to explained that they were out of pepperoni, mozzarella, marinara, and crust, and that they don’t deliver. After waiting so long, it would have been nice for someone to come over and tell us personally that they don’t deliver, but it seems as though customer service is dead today. Not even a free cannoli. We won’t order from here again and I told all of my friends about my horrible experience that ruined my weekend and my love for pizza. This place is the worst. If I could give negative stars, I would.

1 star