Catsmack

Catsmack? Yeah. I ate some Japanese catfood once by the same name. Thought it was chicken salad. It was late. I got home after everyone was in bed. I was tired but hungry. Found something in a tupperware tucked away in the corner of the fridge. Uh huh. You got it. Tasted great on crackers with mayonnaise and a glass of wine. There was a downside, though. It gave me gas. And that wasn't the end of it. My 12th grade daughter let me know the next morning what I ate when she discovered the dirty dishes in the sink. Even worse, I was a teacher at her high school on a U.S. Army base in Japan. Yeppers. My daughter posted the story on Facebook and the school knew all about it before I got to work. That's right. Every time I called roll kids would respond with "meow." So I freely admit it. I'm not embarrassed. I got Cat Smacked. The moniker has stuck ever since. Kinda like it too. It's a good story. Me and my daughter still laugh about it. No shame here.