'It just doesn't make sense! I'm trying my best to like yogurt, but it's just beyond my ability to like it.' said the trashy waitress. Stan approached the table with a square cup of pork yogurt, seasoned delicately with pickles, olives, finely aged scrod and wisconsin cheddar cheese as a stray shot. Trashy waitress paused, savored [aka, despised] the 'yoh-gurt' concoction, and flatly abrupted, 'that's it i'm done with yogurt. thank you stan for helping me end my freakish yogurt quest.'