The bottom line

This post is not suitable for polite company. Or my mother. Not that she's not polite company, because of course she is.

OK. You've been warned. (You, too, Betty.)

I don't know if you know what salad tossing is. In the sexual sense, not in the pouring some olive oil and balsamic vinaigrette over your greens and mixing them around sense.

Yah, so what it means is licking someone's anus. I looked it up and it is on the Internet which means it is totally true. Which is all fine and good and I genuinely believe that people should do whatever they want as long as it is consensual and they aren't hurting anyone who doesn't want to be hurt.

With that said, I'm not tossing anyone's salad. I had E. coli as a child, thankyouverymuch.

Do you know where I grew up? Do you know how many parasitic illnesses I've had? Have you ever had food poisoning? The norovirus? Yah, so these tend to be passed by fecal-oral contact. And all it takes is a teeny tiny microscopic speck of feces in the water.

It just seems prudent to me to stay far from the source.

Nick likes to joke about this and then he makes this horrible, terrible, wretched, revolting face that he will not let me take a picture of. He does this because it elicits a visceral reaction. I'm just all, stay away from my anus and I will stay away from yours and there you have it. And stop making that vomitable face!

He thinks I can stick to a topic, but lemme tell you, the man has his own.

In fact, it occurs to me that I could list my recurring topics and I could list his and you would then know the 17.5 things that we ever talk about forever and ever and ever for richer for poorer in sickness and health and so on.

So last night he suggested, as we were about to head upstairs to watch Orange Is the New Black, that perhaps I might like to toss his salad. And then he made The Terrible Face.

He likes to say things like this when I am least expecting it. And so I said that I wouldn't mind if he paid someone to do that to him.

I mean, really.

Then he asked how much I'd do it for.

Without hesitation I said, "I would do it for $1,000,000."

A million dollars is always a safe number to throw out, if you're ever in a situation like this and have to think of a price right quick.

These conversations are not new to me. Maude and I have been talking for years about things like the minimum we'd charge to let someone poop on our feet, for example. (Nobody has ever asked either of us, in case you're wondering.)

"I bet you'd do it for $900,000."

"Well, yeah."

"How about $800,000?"

"Yes."

"Half a million?"

"No."

"Liar. You'd do it for half a million. Maybe even 200,000."

"Maybe."

"Basically, Lisa, you're now saying you'd be willing to toss salad for 80% less than originally stated."

And then I was all, "Why are you trying to shame me with the price? And anyway, it would have to be to someone else."

"Someone ELSE? No! That's not the point!"

It most certainly is. He doesn't have that kind of money, and even if he did, this is not how I'd want him spending it.