This morning I woke up gnawing on Joe's arm. I wonder where the rest of him has gone. I suppose we'll know for sure in 24 to 33 hours...


No, I kid. And to prove it, have a conversation we just had:


me: Are you looking at pictures of meat?!
Joe: What? No! 
me: Oh. It looks like ground beef.
Joe: It looks like a pile of garbanzo beans! Oh my god.


It's getting bad, kids. The other night I dreamt that I was meeting my Clarion West camerados for a grill-out. When they asked me what I wanted, I pointed wordlessly to a steak. Wrapped in bacon. 


But it's almost been a week, and I have yet to falter, despite an actual grill-out and one friend's insidious attempt to lure me off my path with delicious homemade tacos (you know who you are)!


Let's hope I don't fall into a vat of meat and have to eat my way out in the next 26 hours or so.

If you've known me for any significant length of time, you'd know also that I'm squarely in the camp of Meat is Murder: Tasty, Tasty Murder. In other words, I'm a staunch carnivore. I love animals, but I also love eating them. There was a period in my life where I endeavored to eat meat with every meal. I would eat it in a box, I would eat it with a fox. I will eat it raw. Rest assured, dear reader, that had I the opportunity, I might even eat you.


But I have many wonderful and otherwise seemingly quite sane friends who are equally staunch herbivores, and I've realized through them that there are many benefits to vegetarianism. It is not in any way a lifestyle into which I can imagine immersing myself forever and ever all in one go, but there was no compelling argument against testing the waters a toe at a time.