I'm About To Get Really Catty.

If you know me, or have read this blog all along, you know that Julie is a vegetarian. I don't have any problem with vegetarianism as a concept (my friend Melissa is one), but she drags this into every single conversation, and it is less a matter of a dietary choice with her as a chance to display a hell of a lot of self-righteousness. When she goes out to restaurants, she demands that they make dishes that are not on the menu; it is one thing to ask that meat be left off a dish, but it is another thing to demand something be created. If you don't see something on the menu that you can eat, go to a different restaurant.

She also has this stupid vegetarian restaurant review site, and when we were at Red Robin a while ago, she had the gall to call the manager over and hand him her business card about this, embarrassing the living hell out of Cleo and me (and creating more crap for a landfill, since the card probably went right into the trash can anyway). And I avoid going to the grocery store with her entirely, because she takes an opportunity to lecture about what she can and can't eat on every single aisle. When I go grocery shopping, I want to get what I need, and leave. My view is let me eat what I want, anyone else can eat what he or she wants, and let's just move on. This is why I eat at Reston Kabob so much; it is my safe haven from her; there isn't a single thing on the menu she can eat.

Some say a vegetarian diet is more healthy, yet Julie is as big as a fucking house. But my comment for this is simple: there's no meat in a Ho-Ho (and yes, I know full well that I stole that line from an episode of Roseanne). And since I once was as big as a house myself, I feel like I can still say this, especially after she tried to sabotage me when I was trying to lose weight.

Anyway, I got home with the idea of cooking some Boca burgers (because they are low in calories, not because I am interested in being a vegetarian), and I noticed that there was a strong stench of seafood in the air, far stronger than the usual fishy smell when Julie sits around without her pants. She had two pieces of news: (1) the kitchen sink is being repaired, and wasn't ready yet (the kitchen looks like a bomb went off in it), and (2) she had fallen off the wagon and ate chicken, turkey, and shrimp in one sitting. 

My (unvoiced) thoughts for these two pronouncements were: (1) so much for my plans for dinner, and (2) why the fuck would I even care? She then started talking about how the meat was upsetting her stomach, and was sending her a message. Well, if she had only eaten one of those three meats, she might not be feeling that way! And I reiterate: why would I care? Melissa put it very well: if not eating meat is such a difficulty and one gets cravings, eat meat already. And I am paraphrasing her when I say that we only go around once in this life; if chowing down on dead animals makes one happy, then go for it!

She announced that she was swearing all of her friends to secrecy about her falling off the wagon. Oops. Sorry, Julie. Not really.

So after crashing a little in the Batcave (kicking myself for not going to Freddie's), I went out to Subway, and then went to Best Buy to buy the new Colbie Caillat CD, using the rest of a gift card I got for Christmas. I really like it. I wound up at about 2300 calories today, which isn't great but isn't bad. And I am happy to say that my walking streak is starting to take shape: 27 days and counting. So that, at least, is a good thing. If I walk every day until my next vacation, it will be 82 days in a row. I have no excuse not to.

Well, my dainties are now in the dryer, I have now told everyone about how Julie is annoying, so I am signing off now. Nighty Night!

Eric Out.