Dear Millie Noe It All,
I am concerned about a friend.
She told me that on Friday night she and her husband went to the high school football game to watch their grandson run out onto the field with his fellow fifth grade football players and to see all the little cheerleaders do a big number that their granddaughter choreographed for the halftime show.
So, it was like eight fifteen when they walked in the door.
Because they left immediately after.
And that's when they realized that they should have bought a hot dog at the concession stand, as there was no food in their house.
She says, "Do you want me to put in a frozen pizza?" knowing that her husband would say no.
Her husband doesn't like pizza.
But he said, "Sure. In a little while."
She was pretty excited.
They sat down in their living room and put the Brewer game on the TV.
It was 6-3, Brewers.
Then he says, "Should I light this?"
And she says, "Sure. Why not?"
The next thing they knew, Sven, I mean John, was in their kitchen reading the directions on the frozen pizza.
That is how often he makes a frozen pizza.
"It says to preheat the oven to 48," he yells into the living room.
But then he found a pair of his thirty or so cheaters and realized it actually said preheat to 450.
So, he set the temperature to 450 and returned to the living room to join his wife and barking dog and the Brewers.
Ten minutes later the oven beeped.
And he said, "I guess we can put the pizza in now."
And then she says, "You will have to do it. My spine has turned to rubber. Look, I can't even sit up."
So, he wandered into the kitchen.
But he was having a hell of a time out there.
She could hear it all from the living room.
"Millie," he calls out. "I can't figure this thing out."
She moaned from under her blanket.
"But, I can't move. Remember?"
There was all kinds of beeping and dinging going on out in that kitchen.
So, with every ounce she had, she dragged her rubber-spined butt out there to save the day.
That is when she said, "here," and pushed a button on the stove and then hit the arrow a few times.
And that is when he said, "You just turned the temperature up to five hundred."
"What?" she says.
So she wanders into the living room and finds her glasses and returns to the kitchen.
And then she starts pushing buttons again.
And there was more beeping and dinging.
"You just turned the oven off," he said to her.
"Damn it," she says.
And then she starts all over.
And then he says, "I don't think it's start time that you are supposed to push. I think it's cook time."
And then she says, "Sven. I mean, John, I think I know what I am doing."
But she didn't.
Finally she took his advice and she pressed cook time and then she pushed the arrow in a few times and the timer was set.
By this time the pizza was half baked.
They wandered back into thir living room and sat down.
"Hey," says John over their barking dog. "When did that happen?"
"What?" she says.
And he points to the TV.
The score was like 7-6, Brewers.
And shortly after that the timer started beeping.
And then she said, "You will have to go and get that pizza. I can't."
And so he and their dog wandered into the kitchen.
And after all kinds of noise, they found the pizza cutter in that skinny drawer.
And then they brought the sliced pizza into the living room and set it on the coffee table.
And the happily married couple enjoyed the entire cardboard flavored delicacy.
Saving as much as they could for the dog.
She told me that it tasted just like the kind of pizza that she hated when she was a kid. She always had a peanut butter sandwich instead. Even at slumber parties. But then she grew up and she realized that she had been mistaken and that she actually loved pizza. Even the crappy frozen ones. But then she married John
And John doesn't like pizza.
Anyway, I am concerned about her behavior, her timer confusion and her rubber-spine-like condition.
She couldn't even tell me for sure who won that Brewer game.
What could have caused this?
It was the THC.
Millie Noe It All
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