allow me to get this off of my ample chesticles:
I hate vegans. they're pretentious assholes who inconsiderately accost the world with their putrid tofurky farts and righteous attitudes, and almost all of them have extremely bad tattoos. take for instance, last night, when hipster jesus came into the restaurant with his girlfriend lisa loeb-ette. they sat down and pondered the menu, and the young man stroked his biblical beard several times while pushing up his sleeves with the other hand to expose (albeit not shockingly) his terrible, ironic tattoos. they both were rather difficult with their orders, and I watched from afar as julia went through the slim options we have for non-meat, non-dairy folks and thought to myself what an unfulfilling culinary life they must lead. I wanted to pull up a chair and charitably explain the pragmatism behind accepting the fact that sometimes the only thing that will make one feel better will be deep fried mozzarella sticks with a side of dead baby cow in piccata sauce. going into a restaurant and asking for vegan food is like strolling into a whorehouse and asking where they hide the nuns. do us all a favor, tighten the straps on your birkenstocks and start the long and lonely walk to rainbow grocery where you may attain some ripe brussel sprouts and flax seed oil. I've never met a vegan I didn't want to punch in the genitals.
whew. feel better now.
my birthday is in EIGHT DAYS, and I'm finally getting a computer. I'm so excited. there are so many writing projects I've had on hold...
things are looking up.
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