O P P (Yeah, you know me)

O.P.P. Other people's pasta.
O.P.P. Other people’s pasta.

Throughout my college years, it was difficult to go to a party and not hear Naught by Nature’s O.P.P. Now, it is ┬áthe sort of thing that is heard on occasion in a movie when referencing the ’90s, or, for instance, when discussing my diet with a friend. They were in from Utah, and we were talking a leisurely stroll to grab some dinner and avoid all real life drama for an hour. The conversation went like this:

Bari Nan: You look fabulous. Are you still doing the Paleo thing? It seems to be working.

Me: Yup. Paleo. Well, sometimes.

BN: Sometimes?

Me: I haven’t exactly given up wine.

BN: Duh. That would be crazy.

Me: Exactly. But I have done really well with sticking to fish and protein. Unless I am with friends eating pasta, and then I just can’t help sneaking some noodles off of their plates.

(Insert slurping noises here.)

Me: OK, maybe a lot of noodles. Just the other night, I had two different opportunities for such bad behavior, at two different places, with two different friends. I have no self control.

BN: So, you’re down with O.P.P.

Me: Yeah, you know me.

Yes, yes, I know the P doesn’t usually stand for pasta. The last P stands for property. Well, maybe not. Either way, it seems unlikely that I will be giving up other people’s pasta anytime soon.

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