Chilean Sea Bass

I have a friend who loves Chilean sea bass. So much so that whenever we are planning on going out to dinner we have to have the same discussion. Her, "Do you think they'll have Chilean sea bass?" Me, "Don't know. Don't care." Her, "Do they usually have Chilean sea bass?" Me, "Don't know. Don't care." Her, "Maybe Chilean sea bass will be the special." Chilean sea bass. Chilean sea bass. Chilean sea bass. I swear to God I had to say to her one time, "Please never say the words Chilean sea bass to me again." Then, when we get to the restaurant if by some bad cosmic joke it is the special, and it has been, a number of times, there are countless, relentless questions for the poor unsuspecting waitperson, "Where is the Chilean sea bass from?" "How did the Chilean sea bass get here?" "How long has the Chilean sea bass been here?" "Who caught the Chilean sea bass?" Until the rest of the table is starting to stick the sharp knives in the palms of their hands. Let me tell you, nine times out of ten she doesn't even order the Chilean sea bass. So why all the talk of Chilean sea bass? Can you barely stand to hear the words Chilean sea bass again? Well, the other night we were at this dinner party and the two choices for dinner were filet and guess what? Chilean sea bass. This was actually difficult for me because although I have not eaten meat since I was about 17 the very thought of uttering the words Chilean sea bass to the waiter was very unsettling. I was hungry though, so I did. I ordered it. I don't even like fish that much but I was hungry. So I ate it. I was literally sick for the next three days. Directly after I ate it I had the sweats and stomach pains and they kept on, on and off for the next three days. You know what though? I don't blame the chef for perhaps cooking it wrong. I don't blame the restaurant for a bad batch, I don't even blame myself for ordering it. I blame her.