Within the first week of moving into our 100 year old house, my husband tore this out of a magazine and taped it to our fridge, where it has stayed taped for the last eight years:
There is another possibility for that bite that is too much. As the great Frank Sinatra says, in my favorite song of all time, he ate it up and spit it out. Because you know you're going to get that awful piece of unidentified meat that you chew and chew and chew and holy smokes, it's the worst gristly bite in the known universe, and frankly, you've got to spit it out.
Use your napkin. It's totally okay with me.
This post inspired by TangledLou's invitation to party as an audience!