The other day Daniel and I went to dinner with a couple of friends.

Now I know it seems like I'm spending a lot of time lately complaining about Daniel's very questionable decisions. I prefer the word "informing." But whatever. Call it what you want. In any event, Daniel will be abandoning me in about ten days so I speak now or forever hold my peace.

Server: Uh-oi. And what would you like sir Daniel.

Daniel: Can I have the chicken curry please?

Server: No problem.

Daniel: Oh, but could I substitute the rice for something else?

Server: Ok.

Daniel: Hmm. Let's see . . . so many good choices . . . how about . . . the pancakes with strawberry syrup?

Eli: Daniel. That's . . . that's not something you substitute for rice. To eat with your curry.

I did the polite but condescending laugh across the table to our friends who were both looking at Daniel like he showed up to dinner with the Queen of Colors swaddled in one of those baby carriers attached to his chest.

Daniel: Oh no! [Then looking to our friends] Eli doesn't know what the word "substitution" means!

Server: So you want pancakes instead of rice? With your curry?

Daniel: And strawberry syrup. IF IT'S NOT TOO MUCH TROUBLE.

Server: Ok . . . no problem.

This wasn't particularly shocking to me. Because Daniel has no standards whatsoever when it comes to mixing foods. He pours ketchup into a bowl of applesauce. He puts sour cream on his cereal. I once saw him make a smoothie by blending frozen berries and ONE CUP of almond butter.

But these things are typically done in the privacy of our own home when there aren't other people around and ready to link me to his actions.

I decided there was no need to stress about the curry with strawberry pancakes decision. Sure, it was odd. But eating curry with pancakes on the side never killed anyone.

Then his meal was brought out, pancakes in tow. Daniel poured strawberry syrup all over them like the Apocalypse had arrived and the only way to save oneself was to overdose on sugar. Then he stabbed the pancakes with his fork, raised them into the air, and dropped them into his bowl of yellow curry.

Everyone stared at him, hoping he would explain that this was all some sort of accident. It wasn't. HE DID THIS ON PURPOSE. And he ate his yellow curry strawberry pancake chicken stew for the next fifteen minutes.

I know that pregnant women sometimes have odd food cravings. Could Daniel be permanently pregnant?

Your turn. What disgusting food combinations have you tried or seen other people try?

~It Just Gets Stranger