(IF YOU ARE A NOT VEGAN FRIEND OF MINE, STOP READING NOW.)
THIS POST IS FOR VEGANS ONLY.
ALL OTHERS CAN GO TO HELL.
Though really, you’re already there. At any rate, you’re making everything hell on earth for everyone else. And by “everyone else,” I mean: me.
Isn’t it weird how you can be vegan for almost 20 years and still get just as mad about the fact that the world is not vegan as you could when you were 15?
NO. ACTUALLY IT’S NOT WEIRD AT ALL.
What I can’t stand is when you’re out eating with non-vegan people, like sweet nice friends of yours, maybe even vegetarians (AND BY THE WAY, IS THERE ANYTHING WORSE THAN A VEGETARIAN? I think not. Why don’t you all just give up on it already?), and they order something with flesh or its byproducts–congealed lactation or pretty-much-abortions or those smoky sticks of streaked fat that hipsters are getting tattoos of or something—and I certainly feel, as a (PARDON THE METAPHOR) more-flies-with-honey vegan, and also as a everyone-knows-I’m-vegan, this annoying obligation, when said friends look at you with their rheumy (too much dairy in their lives, you can always see it in the eyes) little puppy dog “I’m sowwy!” eyes before ordering, to be all like, “No worries man, order what you want.” (subtext: I’m not one of THOSE vegans).
And they do, and then there we are chatting and enjoying some fucking human contact for once, except like 6 inches from you they are, like, eating the products of so much horror made flesh, so much terror made liquid, they are literally spooning into their mouths death and fear and torture and all the sadnesses of the world, deviled and over easy and benedicted.
And you know—you JUST KNOW—that if they just read what you’ve read, knew what you knew, you KNOW this, because you’re FRIENDS, after all, and you only have awesome friends, because you’re an awesome person and they have so many amazing qualities, are so brilliant and funny and warm and sparkling to be around and here we are in this perfect world on this perfect day, enjoying tea and company EXCEPT YOU ARE ENGAGING IN A PRACTICE I FIND SO MORALLY REPELLANT THAT IF I GO TO THE BATHROOM AND HAVE A MOMENT TO THINK ABOUT WHAT YOU’RE ACTUALLY DOING I MIGHT FIND IT DIFFICULT NOT TO BURST INTO TEARS/FLAMES.
That’s what I can’t stand.