My friend, let’s call her Fru Fru Pants (that’s another story for another day), was telling me she dated this guy for a bit and one day he told her she was “milk toast.” Huh. I would refer to Fru Fru Pants as many things, like Fru Fru Pants, but never milk toast.
So, while at the viewing of That’s Not Chinese friend’s grandmother, That’s Not Chinese informed me her grandmother loved milk toast. I immediately sent a text to Fru Fru Pants telling her this trivial bit of information. She responded quickly with “I love milk toast.” To which I aptly replied, “You are what you eat. You are milk toast!”
The very next day (yesterday) we run into the “milk” man and I knew he was toast! I could not stop myself from asking him what Fru Fru Pants might be if we truly are what we eat. He asked me what she had for breakfast and I told him I didn’t know. He then told me he was a burrito. Funny, I would have thought scrambled eggs or fruity pebbles.