You, ma'am, are a salad.

I do not like every single person in the world. I also don't like olives in my salad. This occurred to me the other day when I became the victim of selective exclusion, or as it is more widely known, being left out. Everyone in the world is like a salad ingredient.

Thank goodness I had the wonder that is Facebook to thank for alerting me that I was being excluded from another person's salad. I must say first that if you are friends on Facebook with the person you are excluding from aforementioned activity, you should probably not post anything about aforementioned activity. In doing this, you have just reminded me that I am the olive in your salad.

Often, I will make a salad and not even inform the olives that I have made one. They usually find out, though. They see the dirty salad bowl in the sink and maybe they see me sneaking the salad dressing back in the fridge, but they know. Those olives aren't dumb. They just have more class than to confront me or to just brazenly hop into my salad. They know better. I would just push them to the side and make them feel unwelcome. The tomatoes would whisper to me, "Who brought Olive?" To which I would reply, "I have no idea how she knew, she's always been a little dramatic."

That's ok that I'm the olive in someone's salad. Not everyone has to like me, I don't have to like everyone. If I'm going to be an olive, I'm going to be one of those expensive blue cheese and caviar stuffed olives. Now I don't belong in your salad, I'm best just eaten alone with a good red wine.