Why “Sam Mayonnaise?”

I’m more of an aioli fan, to tell you the truth.

I remember like it was yesterday. Morning recess, this little punk (let’s call him Benji, that’s kind of a little kid prick name, right?) comes up to me as I was making an Eames-level sand castle, and starts laughing. 

“Freckle face! Freckle face! Look at your freckles!”

I simply shrug it off, because even at six years old, I know that freckle face is a sub-par insult.

“Samantha Mannis? More like Samantha Mayonnaise, the chubby chubby Mayonnaise!”

Benji kicks over my sandcastle. My chubby cheeks burn, and I start to sob.

It was a fantastic bullying effort: really, he nailed it. 

I know what you’re thinking. Shouldn’t I be harboring resentment instead of honoring my former childhood bully and his gift for cruel puns? Why on Earth would I keep the social handle @sam_mayonnaise ?

Because when life hands you lemons, make mayonnaise. 

I’ve never been one for the victim mentality. If someone tells me no, I figure out another way.

If someone calls me a condiment, I figure out how I can capitalize, so I can splurge on those fancy cheese plates with the flower shaped salami. Can’t get enough of that basic crap.

You may not always get to see your modern sandcastle dreams to fruition, heck you are pretty much guaranteed to live a life that is completely different from what you planned:

But that life could be ten times better than you ever imagined.

So…. don’t let a bully keep you from playing in your sandbox,,. no matter how big and stompy his light up Velcro tennies may appear.

Take his sour words, raise him a couple limes, and make mayonnaise.

You may even get a few laughs along the way.

P.S. Go to hell, Benji. I love my freckles. XOXO.