Your kitchen is only used when the weather won’t permit barbecuing. There’s a pantry stocked with beef jerky. Oh, and deer jerky. Your master bedroom has a bedside table with a pad for writing down late-night inspirations. Your study has a locked plexiglass gun case filled with stuff that would make the A-Team jealous. And Al Qaeda. One of your garages holds your collection of ferraris, and is measured in acreage.Your home also includes a gallery of your favorite works — the originals, of course. Your guests enjoy your animatronic replica of the cantina at Mos Eisley. Outside is your hedge maze and gardens, meticulously tended by a team of world-class botanists.Below is a snippet of the blueprints:
This list is not exhaustive, because he hasn’t stopped talking yet. It must be prefaced with the information that I’ve lost 20 pounds since he moved in and he’s a good friend, a lovely fellow, and as delightful a roommate as I’ve ever encountered.
However.
milk equals pus. It doesn’t matter if you know the cows from birth and milk them by hand. Milk equals pus. All cows are walking petri dishes of mastitis. This and all tenets of the raw food vegan bible are, like all fundamentalist commandments, neither examined nor reconsidered, ever. They are only repeated from memory.At. Length. For another example, ask any Scientologist about psychiatry and watch the hours fly by!
that vegetable that you like? It’s poison!
ditto fruit
all food needs to come with a lecture. A meal without a lecture is like a day without sunshine!
it is the fault of the Bavarian Illuminati that you are unhealthy and eating a crappy diet. They put many resources towards preventing the world from knowing the truth and full health.
your colon and 9/11 are interrelated.
it is all the fault of white men. It’s particularly amusing to get white vegan men to lecture on this topic, because self-awareness is, apparently, entirely prevented by eating a raw food diet.
no matter what’s wrong with you, tweaking your diet can fix it. Missing a leg? Got AIDS? Born a thalidomide baby? A few smoothies will put you right.
everyone, even raw food vegan chefs, loves pizza, perhaps the most perfect food ever invented (just don’t ask a raw food vegan chef for his professional opinion. He’ll give it to you and then you’ll think “well that’s three hours of my life I’ll never get back”).
If you have problems with your digestion, the way to fix that is to stop digesting. Throw all the foods you were going to eat anyway into a blender and process them until they’re an indistinguishable sludge, then drink it. Keep doing that until your digestion problems stop, which they will, since you’re not actually digesting anything anymore.
they may like their food raw, but they prefer their intoxicants smoked. Often. I used to torture the vegan chainsmokers at Greenpeace by yelling “Cigarettes are tested on animals” as they took their smoke breaks.
washing salad ingredients prior to eating them is nothing more than discrimination against Microbe-Canadians. This position is not reconsidered, even after a violent round of E.Coli poisoning involving the carrying of large bowls to the bedside and the equipping of the night stand with tp, bottled water, a smoothie, and a book which requires little mental acuity. The solution is (see above) to consume exactly the same foods, in the smoothie form, which is as fundamental to vegans as the solid form is to physicists.
meat is not just evil, it’s poisonous. Most foods, in fact, are poisonous, especially the tasty ones. I should take him to Salt just to freak him out; they serve nothing but meat and cheese.
vegans eat more salt and sugar than any other group of persons on the planet. I used to refill the salt grinder once every two months. Now it’s once a week, unless we run out of soy sauce, when it’s once every two days. And I’m going through a kilo of sugar a month, easy.
they also drink more green tea than any other group of people on Earth. It’s raw, you see, unlike black tea, which has been processed. If only it were also cheap; a $24 box of Formosa Oolong used to last me six months. Now it’s one month. I might as well inquire about wholesale rates.
if they leave their fruit smoothie for too long and something starts growing on top of it, they will peel off the fuzz and consume the smoothie, nattering on about the benefits of fermentation. Speaking of which,
they love Jack Daniels. Which alone gives me faith in them as a species.
I am, thanks to the crisis-aversion actions taken by, respectively in order of the order they action-took, devblog, Sean Heather, and The Sister, getting my groove back, somewhat. Sean also stuffed me with exotic meats and cheeses (a godsend to those of us who live with raw vegan chef-types; my cholesterol count was getting dangerously low) while Kurtis plied me with succulent sherry so rich and voluptuous that Jay-Z tried to chat it up. Ah, I love working for the hospitality industry!
In any case, here’s a nice ten-minute Mylene Farmer megamix to both express the return of my groovitude and uh, fill the blog up and hold you until I write something better. And now I’m off to hit the grocery store like Katrina hit the Gulf Coast. Oh, there will be Brie on the ceiling by the time I’m done with it, you wait and see! I am the Sam Peckinpah of shoppers!
I would put up a post, but quite frankly I’m completely frazzled and preoccupied. I am like a Chihuahua on crack. In a blender.
I need to round up a good solid $300 by the end of this month, OR ELSE. Seriously, I haven’t even got the presence of mind to trawl through the quizzes and post something amusing. Besides, I’ve spent most of the past two days running around the city putting up flyers for my blogging course this weekend.
Seriously: anybody want to hire me to coach them via IM. Like, before Monday?
You see that Operation Global Media Domination Paypal button, right? Right?