Monday, 20 August 2012

DELIVER ME FROM VEGANISM, FOR IT IS NASTY

There are a lot of things I don't like about myself. Like, a LOT. Sometimes I beat myself up about these things, because that's what women do. (Especially Catholic women. Being a woman and being Catholic is like wearing a guilt bodysuit.)

YEAH, THAT LOOKS APPETIZING
A vegan feast of slimy tofu topped with 
blandtastic alfalfa sprouts. WAITER! 
Stop kidding around and bring me a steak!


So I have days when I feel bad about myself. And I have other days when I realize, hey, it could be worse. I could be a VEGAN. Everything about that cult is creepy to me, starting with the ugly word "vegan."  I also don't like its air of superiority, like being a vegetarian wasn't good enough for them. 

But most of all I hate its food.
After my brush with uber-fit Tosca Reno (click on I'll give up breathing before I give up THAT!), I decided to treat myself to a "healthy" lunch.
And I don't know what the hell happened after that but all of a sudden I am staring at a menu where everything sounds capital "G" gross. (I won't identify the place other than to say it's popular and it's in Toronto and its food makes me gag. AVOID! AVOID! AVOID!) It's all "raw" this and "organic" that, it's stewed in "beet juice" or it's sprinkled with "eggplant dust."  

I try to be a good sport so I order a plate, thinking maybe it will look better than it sounds. But when I get it, it's just a big plate of repulsive. 
People, let me just say it: food is not supposed to be grey. If your food is grey, you should throw it out because that means it's gone bad. Food is also not supposed to have a slimy, intestinal sheen to it. Because that means it's gone bad AND it was never food in the first place. 

Then, the final, fatal error: I force myself to take a bite.
Have you ever had something really painful happen unexpectedly, like say a hammer falls on your big toe, and you uncontrollably shout out "FUCK! DAMN! FUCK! OW-OW-OW-OW!"? That's exactly what I did when I tasted this vegan concoction.
So here's what I did. I heaved it into a garbage container right there on the streets of downtown Toronto. By now I was famished, but thankfully I was headed for my best friend's house for the evening. (More on my weekend with bestie to follow.) I knew she would save me, because she is everything one could ask for in a friend. 
And by that I mean:
A) She is funny
B) She is smart
C) She is loyal
D) She's an amazing cook 
E) And most important of all: SHE IS NOT A GODDAMN VEGAN!