Not the Sharpest Cheese in FRIG II

Sometimes, Val can be a little wacky. But she still pretty much keeps the vehicle that is her life mostly on the pavement, usually between the lines. Hick? Not so much. He's a sweaver behind the wheel of an automobile, and also a sweaver when piloting his own life vehicle. AND he tries to persuade ME that HIS way is the norm. I'm not having it! Oh, and by persuading, I mean that he repeats himself louder, and smirks like I'M the one who is crazy.

Friday night, I made Hick one of his recent favorite suppers before he left for the auction. He'd been to auctions on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday already. But he couldn't miss this one! Since he kept wandering around the kitchen while I was getting it ready, I told him he could make his own plate this time. That involved cutting open the huge potato, slathering on butter and sour cream, then adding the BBQ pulled pork to the top, then the shredded cheddar, and putting two dill pickle spears on the side.

I know Hick. He's barely functional, it seems, when his self-prepared meal isn't hot dogs. I had the potato baked, the meat warmed, and set out the butter, the sour cream, and the cheese on the cutting block. [Let the record show that I forgot to set out the pickle spears, and Hick went without pickles. Yes. It WAS too much effort for him to turn around and open the door of FRIG II]

I also laid a knife beside the butter, and separate spoons beside the meat and sour cream. Plus a sharp knife and a fork for eating. Normally, I even pour some shredded cheddar into a Styrofoam bowl, because I don't want Hick sticking his stubby fingers of questionable hygiene into the whole bag of cheese. But this time, he kept coming into the kitchen, and I don't like stumbling over him and turning to find him RIGHT THERE. So I had merely set the bag of cheese on the cutting block, figuring that surely Hick was smart enough to shake it onto the top of his potato. It's not rocket science, you know.

I left the kitchen, because I can't stand people right up on me. I have a large personal-space bubble. I was leaning over the back of the couch, talking to Hick over my shoulder as he prepared his own plate. I turned to emphasize a point, and caught him in the act.

HICK WAS USING HIS FORK TO SCOOP SHREDDED CHEDDAR OUT OF THE BAG!

Are you kidding me? Do you know how long it takes to scoop shredded cheddar out of a bag on a fork? You get about three shreds with each forkful! Forks have cracks between the tines that shreds of cheddar can fall through. Forks do not have a rim on the side to hold shreds of cheddar on the fork.

"I can't believe you're using a fork for that!"

"I knew better than to use my hands in it, or you'd have a fit."

"Did you ever think of just shaking it out?"

"No. What's wrong with a fork? Everybody does it."

NO NO NO NO NO! Everybody does NOT do that! Do they? Seriously? Have any of you ever dipped shredded cheese out of a bag with a fork? Because either Hick is gaslighting me, or I need to do some research on societal norms these days.