Can someone please tell my dog to stop staring at me?

I keep telling him to stop staring, but he won't. Maybe it's because I'm sitting here enjoying a big bowl of chocolate mint ice cream. OK, truth be told, it's a bowl of low-fat, sugar free mint chocolate ice cream with Girl Scout "thin mints" crumbled in it for more texture, as I'm a very tactile eater. I like my foods to be a certain texture or consistency. Not sure where it all started, but it's a bad habit I can't seem to break. OK, one of the many bad habits I can't seem to break.

For instance, when I put ketchup on a sandwich, I need to let it soak into the bun for roughly ten minutes while I eat my french fries so that the ketchup is a nice, thick and pasty consistency. Now my friends think this is yet another OCD quirk of mine, but in all honesty, it's just a preference. It's more of a thinly veiled attempt to cover one of my true OCD quirks, which is the fact that I can't eat more than one food at a time. I'm actually soaking the sandwich to buy time so that I can eat all my fries before eating the sandwich. I know, I'm so clever.

Yes, I know what you're thinking. I'm one of THOSE people. Now, before you get all finger-pointy on me, I realize that eating one food at a time is crazy. I'm working on it, because I realize that I'm no longer nine years old, and an adult being so finicky over food is just silly. But when I was a kid, my mother had this habit of mixing all of the left over food on your plate and making you eat it together, as "it all ends up in the same place anyway". While scientifically this is true, there's no scientific research that has ever proven a need for orange jello, potatoes, pork and lettuce to EVER be on the same fork.

So my rebellion (albeit a lame rebellion at that) has been to systematically eat all of my foods one at a time. So make fun of me. I don't care. If you really want to make fun of me, just ask me about the summer where I was afraid my car was going to overheat and blow up on me. After being reassured for the fifth time by my mechanic that everything was fine and that (mind you, these were his exact words) , I needed to "quit freaking out because my car was NOT going to blow up", I finally took care of the problem. I bought an SUV.

So in the meantime, I love my SUV and I've very much enjoyed my mint chocolate ice cream with the Girl Scout thin mints crumbled in it. God bless all those little girls for slaving over hot stoves across the country for our enjoyment at three dollars a box. Don't we have child labor laws? We're not living in China, people. Oh, and my dog is still staring at me. Jeez. Stop it!