February 27, 2009

Tastes Like Chicken

We were driving by a slaughter house in Nebraska and I was saying how, except for a great steak once in a while, I could totally become a vegetarian. The V word in his eyes is akin to telling Jerry Fallwell that you love Satan. It is sure to garner an eye roll among a couple of jabs at PETA and comments on the disintegration of society. He's kind of a carnivore, that husband of mine. Don't even get him started on Vegans.

I've never been a big meat eater. I survived on rice and soy sauce and pretzels for months at a time in college and didn't miss flesh a bit. In the last few years, I'm just getting more and more disgusted by all meat. Aside from nasty chewy pieces of God only knows what in damn near every piece of meat I eat, it's the knowing more than I want to about the slaughter that does me in. I can barely eat meat at all without some sick scene from a documentary flashing in my head. Kinda ruins the mood, ya know?

Anyway, I was trying to explain this when the smart ass interrupts me to say, "Yeah, well what about that poor carrot that was ripped out of the ground when it was innocently growing there just so you can eat it?".

And then I made him pull over so I could choke him with my bare hands.
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