What we like
[Edit: I began this blog off the cuff, and suddenly was called away for family issues. I apparently posted only the first 14 words. My apologies. ]
Back when I was working in the jail, I mentioned to a jailer that I had the night before prepared a great pot of wonderful pinto beans from scratch, and that they had been perfect. The salt pork (or bacon, I really don't recall which I had used), the garlic, the dash of cumin-- all had lent themselves to a superior pot of beans. I had then on this particular night taken the large portion of leftover beans and fried them in a giant cast iron skillet while mashing them with a pair of forks, resulting in a large batch of perfect refried beans. Bacon grease may or may not have been involved. I know that tortillas were employed to consume it.
My co-worker, who had mentioned that he was looking forward to lunch break, said simply, "I don't like refried beans. I don't really care for any beans, but I especially don't like refried beans."
I was astounded. It had never occurred to me that a person would utter such words without preceding them by the phrase "You're not going believe this, but..." or "I know it's bizarre, but..."
I mentioned this to my wife as we were prepping some Mexican fare last night, and she laughed as she asked rhetorically, "Did he also not like pizza, beer, or sex?"