All I can say about this chick is that she's psycho. Oh, and never confront her in a dark alley with a jar of mayo... (Pardon her French, too, by the way)
Hold the Mayo, Part II
Since I have a severe phobia of mayonnaise (ew, even typing it makes my stomach turn) I thought I'd share. . . . This leads to more issues than you would think: I can't eat tartar sauce, miracle whip, or anything posing as mayo. I can?t eat ranch, creamy Italian sauces, or anything where oil and eggs may have any possibility of serving as cheap substitute for buttermilk.
. . . . I won't kiss my man until he brushes his teeth twice, if he eats it (even though he can't eat it in my presence anyway). If people eat it while I'm present, I move or leave. I know it's irrational, excessive, and puerile, but I really shudder at the very thought of it.
I don't know when or why this started. (I remember some possible triggers, but nothing to make a phobia develop) . . . . I'm generally very nice, but if someone gives me something which may have mayo as an ingredient, I cuss like a sailor and act like a big baby . . . . When people discuss mayo in a room, if I see the rows of jars (ugh) in a store, or if commercial or movies mention it, I gag violently (yep, very puerile).
But, damn it, when I rule the world I will ban it completely! The strange thing is that I cook with oil and practically live on eggs, and will even cook eggs in oil. But once they're whipped together (ew ew ew), I'll have nothing to do with ?em. (Liz Daniel)