Can I have a bite of that?

Ryan and I went out to dinner last night. We went to Chile's. I'm notorious for ordering things that I don't really want, or that I don't like. I do love their chips and salsa and so I ordered some. I should have stopped there, but our waitress was so eager to take our order and so I succumbed to the pressure and went with chicken tacos. I knew even as I was speaking that I didn't want them. The rest of my meal was completely disappointing. I always wish I would have ordered what my genius of a husband had ordered. He always picks the best stuff. He says its because he goes with his gut. I apparently, don't go with my gut.

As we were leaving, the really disturbing conversation of the night took place...

I said, "Did you know Nick got Jessica new rims for her birthday?"

"Spinner rims?"

"No, just fancy and really expensive ones. She said she's been wanting them for awhile."

"Then why didn't she just go out and get them?"

"Yeah, I don't know."

This conversation was scary for a few reasons. First, Ryan knew exactly who I was talking about--there was no, "Jessica who?" And secondly, we were speaking about these people as if they are our friends.