A Humor Blog For Horrible People
That’s my new tagline – and one that will take up residence on my newly-designed website in a month or so after all of my Paltry Meanderings’ readers have caught on. You may have noticed that I’ve got a new name and look. It was time for a change or, as David Bowie would put it, it was time to turn and face the strange.
However, my blog makeover is only one of several metamorphoses I’ve undergone recently. In fact, during my brief August sabbatical:
1) I’ve Become A Vegan:I know…I may as well have just confided to you that I’ve moved to Oregon, stopped shaving my legs, taken to rubbing a chunk of crystal under my arms instead of deodorant, started wearing Birkenstocks, and sold my televisions in order to donate the money to my local farm co-operative. Of course, that’s ridiculous. I don’t even use deodorant. For the record, although I love all critters, I decided to eschew meat and all animal-based products because I had some addiction issues to conquer – namely my lifelong enslavement to one particular substance – not because I wanted to have an excuse for wearing the fugliest shoes ever created. Breaking this dependence was critical to my relationship with my husband, my parents, my friends and my waistline.
They say, Admitting you have a problem is the first step.So here I am to announce to all of you today that I, Miss Snarky Pants, am an addict. I can’t remember not drinking. I suppose whole milk was my gateway drug, but then my mother further mired me in the Swamp of Dependency by introducing me to Nestlé Quik. Within days, I was a chocolate milk junkie. Mom enabled my new addiction by permitting me to slug down a glass every Saturday morning – as long as I woke her first and asked permission. Of course, I scored half pints of the stuff in the school cafeteria; you’d be amazed what you can get in trade for an apple, half a Twinkie and a bathroom stall blow job.
From there, I moved on to more solid forms of dairy: cheese, ice cream, yogurt and, eventually, sour cream. There was no stopping me. I had no self-control. Addiction is a genetic badge of honor in my family. If you think I have a problem, you should have seen my grandmother. Not only did she eat a bowl of ice cream every single night of her life, she drowned it in a pint or so of moo juice first so that the chunks of butter pecan would float like icebergs, the bulk of their mass hidden beneath the milky waves. I followed in her footsteps and joined the Church of the Holy Udders, eventually becoming the religion’s first High Priestess.
My mother was and is the worst offender. She eats a little baked potato with her sour cream. She drinks a little coffee with her half and half and whipped topping. She likes her cheese with a couple of macaroni. Butter isn’t a condiment; it’s a main course served in meatloaf-like slabs with sides of hollandaise and cream cheese frosting.
During my blogging break, I visited with Mom and we ended up at a local grocery store. Though she’s well aware that I’m in recovery, she held up a round of brie just inches from my nose and asked, “Should we get this to snack on tonight?” I hesitated. I could practically taste the creamy fromage melting in my mouth. It would be so simple to nod. Hubby was on the other side of the state. He’d never know. But I stood firm. No, I told myself, you can do this! There’s no need to call your sober living partner. “Erm, no Mom,” I replied. “I’m a vegan, remember?”
Puzzled, she returned the brie to its place on the Shelf of Dairy Iniquity. Later, at a restaurant, I perused a menu that didn’t offer many vegan alternatives. Mom helpfully pointed out the french onion soup. “Nope, that’s made with beef broth, Mom,” I said, shaking my head. Scrunching up her face, my mother made it clear that broth didn’t count in her book and that she thought I was now just being militant about the whole thing. I’m surprised she didn’t ask me if I was also planning to become a lesbian. In her mind, vegans, political activists, feminists, lesbians – they’re all the same. They all have short hair and wear hideous shoes.
2. I’ve Given Up Hard Liquor: No more Ketel One Jell-O shots in the morning. Not only is vodka fattening, it turns out that Jell-O is made out of the hooves, bones and other icky bits of horses, cattle and pigs. It’s also a treat most commonly enjoyed by Mormons. In fact, the residents of Salt Lake City eat more lime Jell-O than any other city in the nation. According to The Atlantic’s Scarlett Lindeman, Utah not only leads the country in Jell-O consumption, but the state went as far as to adopt the wiggly, jiggly goo as its official snack and Bill Cosby as an honorary Utahn. As far as I’m concerned, this is just another reason why I don’t trust Mitt Romney. If he becomes President, I’m pretty certain that Thanksgiving turkey will be replaced with this:
Yeah, I realize that turkey isn’t vegan, but I’m married to an omnivore. Though Hubby has been extremely supportive during this transition, he will not be denied a dead, twenty pound bird come this November. He gets grumpy when he’s hungry. So in the interest of ensuring that all of my digits remain intact, I will dutifully roast him a big ol’ ass gobbler while I
grumble my way through enjoy a veggie burger.
Now don’t go assuming that I’ve become a teetotaler because that would be a tad extreme. I still enjoy my wine and I’d happily guzzle down a couple bottles of Angry Orchard Hard Cider every day if each one wasn’t packed with 200 calories that are genetically modified to permanently reside in my muffin top and give birth to baby calories that will later migrate to both of my ass cheeks. This is not acceptable, particularly considering that this blog is called Miss Snarky Pants, not Miss Snarky XXXL Stretch Pants.
3. I’ve Been To The Ghetto: Now this wasn’t Miss Snarky Pants first trip to the hood; however, it was her first trip there for the sole purpose of identifying stolen property – namely, Hubby’s Piaggio scooter, which was allegedly purchased by the perp (that’s cop lingo for perpetrator) from a man named Chris for forty buckaroos. Hubby and I can’t score a decent meal in this town for that amount, but a white trash meth head with a record of priors longer than John Holmes’ schlong thought he could talk his way out of an arrest by claiming to have bought the scooter for less than the price of a parking ticket.
The fact that the $2500 retail Piaggio had been hotwired, the ignition gouged to bits by a screwdriver, and the locks on the mini-trunk and seat busted open apparently didn’t give our poor, little, alleged
thief purchaser of stolen goods a clue that the scooter might be, erm, stolen. Hmmm. Perhaps because there is no guy named Chris? Perhaps because the alleged tweaker with a penchant for roughing up police officers was the same dude who rolled the scooter right out of our condo parking lot the night before it was discovered in his backyard?
What does this have to do with me and my ch-ch-ch-ch-changes? My perception of my community has been altered. I live in a transitional, downtown neighborhood, in which homeless people are a frequent pedestrians and residents. However, I’ve never felt threatened. I like to think that I’m cosmopolitan enough to embrace urban living – even though there is a certain amount of risk involved. But that trust in my immediate community has been marred. While I waited with a girlfriend in a neighborhood dotted with boarded up and graffiti-covered bungalows for the tow truck to arrive to bring Hubby’s Piaggio home, I felt violated. The alleged perp’s family and friends were all gathered in the front yard like the cast of a John Waters’ film, one of them using his cell phone to videotape me. As one pink-haired Weeble wobbled her way out of a pickup truck, I became certain that the late transvestite, Divine, had been reincarnated and was now living out her role in Female Trouble right here in the Florida projects.
All of the attorney piss and vinegar drained out of me and I experienced fear – even with three police cruisers parked in the center of the road, lights flashing. Nervous as a horse being dropped off at a Jell-O factory, my friend retreated to the safety of my car. One officer asked me to keep my distance from the alleged perp’s family because Divine and the brood were now claiming that they knew my friend. Before I could think, before I could process a truly rational thought, my subconscious took over and my instinct spoke for me. “That’s ridiculous!” I exclaimed. “She’s a vegan. She taught a cooking class at my condo.”
It was in that moment I realized that – deep down – I believe that all vegans are just good people. Particularly ethical vegans who stopped the personal carnage in their lives because they place animal rights above their bodies’ own need for vitamin B12. Vegans don’t steal things; they trade dairy-free cookies and host pot lucks. They teach others how to properly drain tofu and turn it into something that doesn’t taste like paste. They gave up bacon, for chrissakes! The fine art of hotwiring is not among their skills. Plus, no vegan would ever sell someone a scooter for a mere $40. These are people who shop at Whole Foods – and everybody knows that you can’t buy a banana, a bundle of kale and a can of organic, vegan refried beans for less than fifty bucks in that place.
My precious readers, I return to you a different woman. One who is both more and less cynical; one who is more gassy (it’s the beans, people) and less, erm, intoxicated. One who is going to be putting her life on the line to bring you coverage of the protesters who will be rallying for the next week outside of the Republican National Convention. Oh yes, it’s true. Miss Snarky Pants is in Tampa – and before you start begging, Jon Stewart (yeah, we all know you’re in town), I will not accept a position working for you as a Daily Show correspondent. Erm, unless you offer to pay me loads and loads of cash and allow me to wear a tiara during interviews. Oh, and I want a dwarf. Seriously, it’s no deal without the dwarf.
So stay tuned because I’ll be posting every day next week. Did I mention that the Romneyville encampment is located just down the street in a vacant lot? Or that this image:
was discovered on the roof of a building just a stone’s throw from my place, along with a collection of bricks and pipes – supposed weapons of mass Republican delegate destruction? Or that I’ve been awakened every morning this week by helicopters hovering over my building for several minutes at a time? Or that Tropical Storm Isaac is headed right for us?
Don’t worry folks. I’ve got my galoshes. I’ve got my Ikea umbrella. Anyone mind lending me a taser gun?
If you enjoyed this post, please follow me on Facebook by clicking here and share this blog with your friends.
Update: One Occupy protester Tweeted at me, asking why I was afraid of the protesters when I should be afraid of the police. I responded that I’m not afraid of the protesters. Would I be asking protesters to contact me with their stories and information about their causes if I was afraid of them? I am concerned that there are parties out there who have threatened to use violence and the destruction as a form of free speech during the RNC. To be clear, I won’t be covering any organization that endorses violence or damage to private or public property.
As far as the police go, I think we can all agree that there are good cops and bad cops. It’s unfair to generalize beyond that statement. I’m appreciative that there is a substantial police presence in Downtown Tampa and I hope that they can help protect the property and lives of the 99 percenters who reside downtown – and the majority of us are in the 99%, including Hubby and me. Likewise, I hope that law enforcement is judicious regarding the use of force. Most of the protesters aren’t here to cause problems; they’re here to be heard. And I’m listening.
Amelia Dyer via listserve.com
Birkenstocks via sodahead.com
Butter via news.discovery.com
Jell-O via clickamericanan.com
Female Trouble via allmovies.com
Anonymous/Guy Fawkes via examiner.com
88 thoughts on “A Humor Blog For Horrible People”
I am a horrible person and I support these changes! Send me your vodka, sister – I have yet to evolve!
Happily…and don’t evolve unless your muffin top forces you to!
Isaac was supposed to hit us and I was kind of excited about it. We haven’t had any hurricane action in years! Oh well, maybe next season. Oh, and your ghetto story was hilarious!
Thanks so much! Wait to you read my RNC protest coverage. It’s like shooting fish in a barrel. Except I like a lot of those fish. Hmmm. Maybe I could just stun the fish in the barrel?
Okay, you can change. I tried but a $1.50 coupon on bacon, cheddar burgers at the Stop & Shop pulled me off the wagon. I wish you the best of luck. Keep one little seed of hostility because you’ll mellow out and as a fan I’d miss the edge in your blog.
Tom, my new tagline is going to be “A Humor Blog for Horrible People.” I assure you that my edge is just getting sharpened. Now I just have more to pick on about myself.
I’ve just read this brave, bold post where you’ve courageously come out as a vegan, and in the process water has spurted more times than I can count out of my nose onto the keyboard. Colleagues are not amused. I eagerly look forward to ‘A Humor Blog For Horrible People’ as you seem able to capture the concentrated essence of my thoughts and opinions so many times when it comes to your view on things, therefore a blog that shamelessly embraces your inner funny bitch can only be a thing of beauty.
You are too kind. Erm, I hope I didn’t break your keyboard.
It would be a worthy sacrifice.
“I’m surprised she didn’t ask me if I was also planning to become a lesbian. In her mind, vegans, political activists, feminists, lesbians – they’re all the same. They all have short hair and wear hideous shoes.”
I’m 4 out of 5 of those AND have short hair, but you will NOT catch me in ugly shoes!
I guess I won’t be sending you my grandmother’s recipe for Jello salad anytime soon. It is delicious, and contains both sour cream and bits of horse. Mmmm. (Love the new look. It’s simultaneously snarky and happy, which makes me happy about being snarky.)
“I’m only happy when I’m snarky, I’m only happy when it’s complicated, and though I know you don’t appreciate it, I’m only happy when I’m snarky…”
I am so with you Christy,, I am such a bitch and happy with it. However, I will never be a vegan (sorry critters I love and cousin Shauna), But, kudos to you.
Trust me…I never thought I, of all people, would ever, ever, ever become a vegan. I thought people who gave up dairy voluntarily were one french fry short of a Happy Meal.
Yay! I love it, CCL. Nice work.
Thanks, Christine. BTW, I miss you!
I know. Me too. I love my job, which is great, but miss having time for friends. I have seen two friends in 6 weeks, and they were both for birthday parties. Not exactly Miss Social these days. I just need to re-adjust to FT work. Then I can come back out to play!
Love, love LOVE the new digs! Another corker of a post (yes, I used the word corker in a context not related to wine — I’ve been in Maine for three weeks), but I think you’re a little confused about that vodka in the morning issue. Everybody knows that a Bloody Mary is a health drink — tomatoes, celery, horseradish and potato-based spirits. It’s a virtual salad in a glass. Make it with V8 and it’s the equivalent of a day at the Canyon Ranch. Or was that the Betty Ford clinic? Oh well, whichever. It’s a day out of the house with slippers. In a glass.
Why must you tempt me, Slattern?
I applaud your decision to change your eating habits, but I still don’t understand the going vegan part.
Vegans are better people? I live on the Washington Peninsula and you can’t swing an organic cotton sock full of tofu around without hitting a vegan here and they’re not all nice by a long shot. Sanctimonious, crabby, hungry, hairy, post menopausal co-op women that will ram their Prius into because they are having hormonal hot flash rages is way more the types I run into.
But don’t worry about the deodorant thing, just splash on some organic, cruelty free trade patchouli oil and you will be good.
Still laughing at your comments out loud. Let’s hope I don’t turn into a sanctimonious, crabby, hungry, hair, post-menopausal bitch. Then again, I might be snarkier…and possibly funnier. Though I’m sure some of my vegan friends would love it if this was an ethical decision for me, it’s not. It’s a health decision. I’ve got a leather sofa, leather chairs, leather shoes and purses. I’d be a hypocrite if I criticized omnivores for their choices, so I won’t be doing that. In fact, if you see me sneering at you in a restaurant while you bite into your BLT, it’s only because deep down I want to rip that sandwich out of your hands and gorge myself with it. Bacon still calls to me in my dreams. Sigh.
Who decides if I am horrible?Or you are?Still,it gives a feeling of freedom!
If you’re reading my blog, I’m gonna have to say that you’re admitting that you’re horrible. And there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that.
I refuse to be horrible which defines me as disobedient
Even better. Perhaps I should change my tagline to: A Humor Blog for Horrible and Disobedient People?
Welcome back! I’ve nothing whatsoever witty to say, but welcome your general return to snarkiness… made more snarky by the lack of dairy and vodka. Hoorah! :>
Thank you. Yes, a sober, hungry woman is most definitely snarkier.
I still love you even if you are a teetotaling vegan. Stay safe. Stay dry.
You’re practically a teetotaler yourself. You need to come visit and we’ll tie one on.
Woo-hoo trade-free organic ginger ale all around!
It’s not trade-free. What do I look like – a militant?
You will be by the time I see you in person again. At least, that’s what I hope.
I’m too tired to be militant. Takes too much damn energy.
But you could get a cool tattoo.
I’m planning to have Paul Ryan’s abs tattooed onto my belly. The man’s got to have some purpose on this planet and so far, that’s the only one I can come up with.
sorry for the delay. Love the new look, new name and same snarky attitude. I would’ve commented sooner, but I have a cervical disk in my spine which has migrated just far enough West to hit a nerve root. I can’t go online for more than a few minutes, then have to lie on the floor like the invalid which I will be until the disk behaves itself.
What an ungrateful little spinal cord you have.
no kidding…after all I’ve done for it; staying off jet-ski’s, motorcycles and out of Circ de Soliel…wearing seat belts and only jumping into pools feet first…THIS is the thanks I get!
I think somebody’s spine is not going to have any tv privileges this weekend!
This is hilarious! I love your new slant and so sorry about the scooter! 😉
Thanks. At least the police found it – shout out to the Tampa Police for their incredibly quick detective work. All cops aren’t baddies!
A1 Steak Sauce profits just plummeted. I hope you enjoy your Tofurky this Thanksgiving–seriously I’ve heard that the one at Trader Joe’s rocks and I assume they’d also sell it at Whole Lotta Expensive Foods. Of course the source of this information also thinks nutritional yeast tastes like cheese, so I can’t swear to the validity of the statement, but the Tofurky has still got to be better than lime jello. Dang it, I’m craving some cornbread stuffing right about now!
Yeah, I’ve tried nutritional yeast and it’s tastes like cheese alright – toe cheese. I bought some to sprinkle in food anyway. I’m open-minded, but it ain’t parmesan!
Cristy,I love the new look and the new name! I love reading your blog, so I am pretty horrible. Yay. My daughter just celebrated her second year as a vegetarian. I’ve stopped eating red meat, which is pretty impressive considering my veins are clogged from eating one too many cheeseburgers over the years. Change is good. The hurricane gods are sending rain to Tampa so it will rain on Mitt’s parade. (Trying not to laugh)
And my head. I’ve spent too much of my life surrounded by cats. I hate to get wet. Thanks for always being so supportive of my blog. When is your memoir being released?
Oh, I’m not being supportive. I want to be able to be a name dropper when your book comes out and is a best seller. 🙂 My book was released as an ebook on Amazon in July. It’s doing ok. I can pay my cable bill with the royalties…lol
Hey, you’re making something. Now I know what I’ll be reading next…
Congratulations! Feel free to plug away here in the comments section so all of my awesome readers know where and how they can find your book! This lady is a hilarious storyteller, folks. Send me a link on FB too, if you would!
You are too kind. 🙂 Jumping in Mud Puddles: A Memoir of a Picky, Hyper, Big Fat Liar is a collection of stories of my growing up in a nutty family during the 60’s and early 70’s.Actually, I think I was the one who was nutty. http://amzn.com/B008IFW8Q8
Yay! Everyone: Buy This Book!
What the…. I had no idea you were in the middle of a re-do! I owe you a phone call… I’ve actually had a lot of work for the past week but I’m hopeful for the upcoming. Two thoughts: One re: dairy. I knew girl when I did a year abroad in England whose after-school snack, as a child, was actually… a stick of butter rolled in sugar! I kid you not. My arteries tightened just hearing about that. (And no, this was not the same girl in our flat who drank whipping cream from the container….) Also, #2: I LOVE hard cider! Is that considered hard liquor that you’re now off of, or just belly-inducing stuff to be avoided?? We must share sometime! I rarely find other people who pursue hard cider, so… anyway. Snarkstress, I like the looks of the new blog but the other was – too long? — really? Did your subbies follow you over here? Ah, too much for a comment, must call….
Cider is most definitely still on the menu. It’s only 5% alcohol, but I can’t enjoy one every day because of the calories. For you though, I would make an exception.
Can’t wait for this week….can’t wait for this week….can’t wait for this week….because I bought a lottery ticket. OK, that’s a lie. Can’t wait for you to pants Romney on national TV. Totally amazing awesome format change from my BB, now get that pornographic gravatar pic up and you’re G-O-L-D-E-N.
Love the new tagline! Veganism is probably bringing out the darker side of your writing. Ironically.
I am a newly converted carnivore after years of repressed animal urges, and I’m at least a life time away from moving to ‘greener’ pastures.
Gather ye bacon while ye may…
I pine for greens every now and then, but mostly, I need meat. Welcome back!
Good to see you back. Trying to cut on the booze as well (for caloric reasons)…but vegan…? That’s a bit tougher…but kudos to you. Are there good vegan places in your area? I know a lot of Chinese places do vegan, because of the “Buddhism thang” – they do amazing things with tofu – tofu sushi, tofu crab cakes….or are you the more militant vegan who just goes for the straight vegan stuff, no fancy schmancy tofu-y for you?
I’m way too funny to be militant. And too lazy. Do realize it takes 43 muscles to frown and only 17 to smile? It’s so much easier to not be pissed off about everything, so being militant about anything other than protecting my Constitutional right to bear wine is really out of the question.
But, yes, there are a number of good restaurants that offer vegan menu options in our area, but this lifestyle has motivated me to cook (a.k.a. stirring), so Miss Smarty Pants’ abode is vegan central.
Now that I’ve been taught how to make tofu so that it no longer tastes of paste and, instead, tastes of something Asian, soy is on the menu, but I doubt it will be a regular dish as tofu is extraordinarily demanding of both one’s time and paper towels. When I read directions that instructed me to “drain the tofu,” I expected that meant that I just drained off the liquid the tofu was chillin’ in. Apparently, drain has a new definition that no one bothered to tell me about and that definition reads:
Drain: (v) to wrap tofu in a quarter roll of paper towels, squeeze and when towels are saturated, unwrap the tofu and dispose of wet towels. Repeat four times until tofu resembles one of those compressed t-shirts the size of a compact.
You got it. THEN, you can shape the tofu into anything you want and eat it – flank steak, chicken livers, the Eiffel Tower…. to name a few.
Love the new Gravatar!
I think that we just became best friends- my elementary days were also littered with bathroom stall B.J.’s in exchange for dairy products. I can’t believe that I read this whole thing. F*ck (it measn that you’re good). You have 2 years before your body loses all of its stored B12. And if you get mad yeast infections, I promise to not say “I told you so.” At least I think that’s why I got all those yeasties that one year….
I’m already taking probiotics to prevent any yeasties and a B12 supplement. Now, my doctor wants me to take a calcium supplement and vitamin D. I’m thinking it might just be easier if I hook myself up to an IV at night and do away with the entire “eating” part altogether. BTW, I remember you from school. You’re the one who scribbled “Will Give BJs For Brie” on the bathroom wall, aren’t you?
You don’t even want to know what I’ll do for chevre. It involves two holes though…
You’re right. I don’t want to know. It might give me ideas.
As a generally horrible human, I support what you’re doing here. I also applaud your bravery for coming out as a proud vegan. My father still doesn’t understand that I’m a vegetarian. It’s like he has a mental block to the entire idea of it all. For example, I’ll be on the phone with him telling him eating something with even a little bit of meat fat makes me sick, he’ll respond with a vague noise or an “oh ya,” then he’ll say something like “Hey, I’ve got a few duck breasts in the freezer…do you want me wait to cook those next time you’re home??”
I totally get that. Although I did eat meat most of my life, I’ve never been a huge FAN of it (with the exception of crispy bacon). I hear you when it comes to meat fat. The texture is so chewy and glutinous and gross. It’s like chewing snot for people like us. As a result, when I did eat meat, it had to be the very best cuts – filet mignon, white chicken breast, pork tenderloin – and cooked until it was the consistency of leather. Of course, the worst is when you’re invited to dinner at someone’s house and they’ve prepared a big, bloody, fatty porterhouse for you. Being able to say I’m vegan is a lot simpler than trying to explain that you have texture issues and, though it’s not their fault, it doesn’t change the fact that the meal they’ve served you is wreaking havoc on your gag reflex.
where are you ms cristy? where in the f are you? last update august??!! are you okay, what’s happening? momma needs to know? xo, sm
Oh, SM, I’ve missed you. Everything’s fine; I just took a blogation – no reading or writing for a month, BUT I will be returning this week and I’ve been gathering up all kinds of interesting subjects to write about. Thanks for checking up on me! xo CCL
yaaaaaaaaaay, i was truly worried. lol. glad you are back. and i understand the blog break. i think breaks give one fuel, but that’s just my theory. xoxo, sm
It was a busy month, but I’ve always been dedicated to my writing. Then I remembered that no one is currently paying me to do this, so I’d better take a blogation now before the frenzy of offers from The New Yorker and The Atlantic come flooding in. Cause that’s happening ALL day long now that my blogation is over and, frankly, it’s interrupting my attempts to schedule my impending nuptials to David Sedaris – whom I’m sure will marry me once the restraining order is lifted.
Would you please let me know when you’re officially famous? I keep scanning the Entertainment Section of the Huff Post for this headline: Brilliant Humorist/Comedian Plucked from Blogging Obscurity to Replace Jay Leno. If you’d just promise to shoot me an email when this occurs, I could spend more of my time improving my knowledge of the Turkey/Syria conflict and memorizing all the lyrics to REM’s It’s the End of the World (As We Know It).
Bacon is meat candy. I would never give up my meat candy. If my doc said, “Give up the bacon, or you’ll die,” I’d say, “And how many ceral box tops did your degree cost?”
You are not helping my resolve, rwfoster. I love bacon in a way that can’t be described.Years ago, I went on the Atkins Diet and didn’t lose much weight. Then I read that the so-called “beauty” of the Atkins Diet is that no one is going to eat a pound of bacon just because the diet permits it. Thanks, Dr. Atkins…maybe you should have put that gem in your fucking book.
Have you had bacon chocolate or chocolate-covered bacon yet?
Indeed. Also: bacon wrapped steak, bacon wrapped strawberries, bacon fried chicken, candied bacon, bacon icecream…
Bacon ice cream? I know it should totally gross me out, but it doesn’t in the least. Sigh.
It’s totally delightful. How could I forget the best of all: barbequed bacon ham sandwhiches. Man. Now I’m hungry. BACON!
Thank goodness I just ate. You can’t say that kind of thing to a vegan-litist. My resolve is simply not that strong (she said, smugly, knowing that she’d just eaten scrambled egg whites for breakfast).
I had two hardfried egg sandwhiched with bacon, lettuce and tomatoe for breakfast. 😀
LOL. Why do you say such a thing? O:)
I could have told you about my extra cheese, sausage, pepperoni and bacon pizza that’s for dinner tonight. Did I mention I love being an ominivore? 😀
Grrrrrrrrrrrrrr. If I send you my address, can you overnight me the leftovers?
Leftovers? What are those?
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Hi there! I know this is kinda off topic however , I’d figured I’d ask.
Would you be interested in trading links or maybe guest writing a blog
post or vice-versa? My website discusses a lot
of the same subjects as yours and I feel we could greatly benefit from each other.
If you are interested feel free to shoot me an e-mail. I look forward to hearing from you!
Terrific blog by the way!
Thanks so much! I actually at a writing conference right now, but I’ll touch base with you when I return home so we can discuss your suggestion more thoroughly. 🙂 Thanks again!