Last night my friend Jews met me for dinner on her way back to our hometown from San Diego. As I was about five minutes late (standard, as I'm always late), she went ahead and ordered my meal without asking me what I wanted. Yes, I realize this could be a risk considering how picky I can be, but in the case of Olive Garden, where I've been getting the same meal for twenty years, it just made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. I loved that she knew my order.
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