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Last weekend we invited the husband’s 4 sisters who live in Maine to a barbecue/pool tournament/behold the majesty of the Barn Mahal man cave/ party. It was a good time… except for one dastardly deed. You see one of his sisters brought this:
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After I specifically said we were grilling filet mignon… she had the audacity to contribute to the feast.
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A dozen lobsters, fresh from the ocean that morning. Damn her rotten black soul!
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I had to watch those succulent creatures being disbanded…
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Dropped in the pot…. ( Only 2 inches of water please. We steam, not boil )
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Covered with a lid ( And a brick. They tend to buck when dying. Hell, wouldn’t you? )
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Oh, the horror!
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The horror of watching everyone tuck into the delightful crustaceans I can no longer eat.
It was Hell. Pure, unadulterated Hell.
😫😫😫
The only pleasure I took was not being able to find our crackers and picks. Substitutions had to be made.
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Good thing the tool box was close by.
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The husband was schooled at the pool table by two of his sisters, which I thought was fitting punishment for consuming and enjoying lobster in front of his now allergic wife.
But once the party was over, the mess cleaned up and everyone went home… what was almost worse than watching everyone eat them?
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Seeing the two leftover red beauties every time I opened the fridge the next day and knowing I couldn’t make a lobster roll.
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Hell, I tell you.
It was Hell.
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