Vegetarianism and Euthanasia

I'm pretty much a half hearted vegetarian because it's mostly for health reasons. Half of my family has died of heart disease and cancer, so I try to stay away from most meats. Plus, I actually just prefer veggies: given the choice between a meat lovers and a veggie lovers pizza, I’ll always go for the veggie pizza. It just tastes better to me. Although there are times I wish I could keep a cow tied up in the back yard so I could go out and gnaw on it whenever I get hungry. I think that may be hormonal. And I love the stinky cheeses. So like I said, it’s all half hearted.

I’m not opposed to eating meat, nor am I any kind of rabid PETA freak. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like I’m for cruelty to animals. I abhor the whole idea of sport hunting, and using animals to test for land mines and shit like that. But if I could, I would love to parade up and down in front of the PETA headquarters wearing a full length mink coat with badgers on my feet and a live wombat on my head, just to annoy them. The PETA people, not the badgers and the wombat. The whole PETA cult seems to be populated by wildly and obnoxiously self righteous idiots.

Ironically, that last part is used to describe me by a lot of my friends as well: wildly obnoxious self righteous idiot. It’s how I know they love me.

I had a conversation about pets (with subliminal subtext about animal rights) with my sister once that was surreal and superficial all at the same time. She was telling me about some program where skanktastic socialites take their dogs to this woman who says she’s a pet psychologist or psychic or some such shit. Well, this one vacuous excuse of a human woman brought her dog in and the pet psychic told her that the dog wanted to be put down. After my sister relayed that particular bit of information, I just stared at her mouth agape, and thought, “Holy shit, that poor dog must really loathe that anorexic little twit! Maybe she uses it to purge or something, and that’s why it's begging for euthanasia!”

My sister looked at me confused because I looked so shocked that the psychic was telling the twit her dog was suicidal. Until, to clarify, I explained what the term “to be put down” meant when used in reference to animals. Generally.

Turns out the anorexic little twit was carrying the dog around all the time and the psychic was just saying that the dog wanted to be put down on the ground once in awhile.

It was funny. We laughed. Then she called me a wildly obnoxious self righteous idiot.

Good times.

What actually drives us?

I really want to know. According to anthropologists (from what I understand) our most basic instincts for the continuation of life boils down to food and sex.

Not that I have a problem with this. In theory. In practice it is a different matter.

I can go for days without food (trust me, my brain is evil and has made me go for four days (the longest) without any food. Although I was allowed lemon water and a glass of red wine each night, so it wasn’t all bad.) And I haven’t been able to have actual sex for years. Years. Seriously, for like 108 years I’ve been only able to touch myself and no others.

That last bit may be an exaggeration. But not much of one.

So either I’m extraordinarily strong in exerting my will over nature, or I’m a self indulgent twit who is so self absorbed that I think my feelings of inadequacy and insecurity actually amount to something and that they take precedence over what other people are going through, and am therefore to be offered charitable help and assistance.

Thinking on it, I think I actually prefer to just die, thanks.

How many xanax DOES it take to get to the center of the crypt?

Inquiring minds want to know.

Why I'm a Ridiculously Fabulous Geek

I bought a can of nuts. "Less than 50% peanuts"! the label proudly proclaimed. I didn't care. That's not why I got them.

I got them because I like to eat nuts out of the can, one at a time, with chop sticks.

That's not the only fun I rock out on. I'm an animal of outrageousness partying, with naked thighs.

Plus, I really, really like knock-off name brand purses. I have some sort of unholy Guccci Coach hybrid that my niece bought for me that I wish I could stop using, but it has, oh! So many useful pockets. Plus the hidden lead lined enriched plutonium panel which every middle eastern spy needs nowadays.

I really love chop sticks. They're so tappity-tappity-tap.

I really need a new job...

Why is it that old ladies feel the need to wear so much perfume that you can smell them as soon as they walk into the building, no matter which floor you're on at the time?

I work with several dear old souls who have either had their nasal passages cauterized or are so desperately afraid of dying without anyone noticing that they judge their continued existence by the various violent reactions of people encountering their semi-solid wall of personal smog.

Or...

They are just trying to kill me. My god, these women reek.

Supporting the theory of homicidal intent is the fact that they all wear different scents. I use the word "scent" along the same lines of a skunk's "scent".

Different, competing, cloying and harsh, incense-tuous and overwhelming (one of them has overtones of rancid Palmolive) I swear to god the air becomes unbreathable for all the various gases these women exude voluntarily. Sometimes I have to wield a pomander of rosemary, frankincense and cloves to combat the plague of their combined assault on my olfactory sense.

And to make matters worse, they have more than one perfume each. Everyday it is a different evil concoction of aromas, so it's nothing I could possibly become accustomed or immune to. They all wear at least 864 various and equally appalling fragrances, and I swear to god they do it on purpose. I'm not sure what that purpose is, but I'm sure it's evil and has something to do with the fact that I still have lots of sex and they don't.

Dudes, seriously. They stink.