i don't give a rat's...

it's the sad truth, i don't. at least, about the rat. we've all heard the vegetarian hype, about the poor innocent chickens who get their beaks seared off by hot serrated knives, and how they try to peck each other to death in the confines of their 1x1 cage filled to the brim with other beak-less chickens. and if they don't succeed in killing each other or themselves with their beak-less pecking, then their bodies in their entirety get ground up, packed, and deep fried in a form that we lovingly refer to as "chicken nuggets". i've heard the hype, so have you.

i have, at one point or another in my 29 years of life, sympathized with said "chickens" and attempted to do my part in not contributing to the heartless horror that is the meat industry. but i have always given in to that greasy-fried-"protein" craving and ordered up my fair share of 6 piece chicken nugget meals at mcdonalds… or that greasy hamburger at the c.c. club on lyndale (the best place to get a burger in uptown), or that chicago dog at the bulldog (locations in northeast and uptown, the absolute best place for a dog and a brew).

but i recently read this book "skinny bitch", which, to my surprise, delved headlong, in detail, into the horror that is the meat industry. i was not expecting this. i was expecting some bitches with attitude to give me some pointers on how to keep off the 50 lbs i've lost in the past year (insert pat on the back here). and i certainly did get that. however, these particular skinny bitches firmly believe that the reason we're all fat is because of all the animal protein we consume in the form of meat, eggs, dairy, and all other products that might come from (or claim to come from) an animal. they spend the first 4 or 5 chapters of the book explaining how we, as herbivores, do not need, nor naturally digest, animal protein.

if their sassy and sultry arguments don't convince you by chapter 6, look out. because they spend the whole chapter, in gruesome detail, divulging how violent and gruesome the process is that provides us with the hamburgers we crave.

i had college roommates who were card-carrying members of PETA. i saw the magazines and read the pamplets. to me, their publications seemed to be over-sensationalized fodder meant to win wallets and horrify the general unknowing public. however, when i read chapter 6 of "skinny bitch", there was something that stopped me when i read about the gory details of what happens to a cow, a creature that god almighty made, when i crave a hamburger.

i'm not trying to convert you. i'm not. i am not smart enough, nor convincing enough. if you eat meat, good for you. do it. because cattle ranchers and chicken farmers all over the united states of america are counting on you, just like i count on you to sing when you come to church, so that i can keep my job.

when i read chapter 6, i cried. i confessed. i gave it up. all of it. meat, eggs, dairy… and no one loves cheese and yogurt more than i do. my husband read the book and subsequently relinquished his desire for meat, eggs, and dairy, which i did not expect.

so here we are, the malette household, meat, eggs and dairy free. it's been nearly two months now, and we've felt amazing. we've both been sleeping amazingly soundly for having two brittany spaniels at the foot of the bed, and have been having some of the most vivid and colorful dreams we've ever had. the heartless onslaught of adult acne that i have been unable to rid myself of for the past 8 years has almost completely cleared up, and i've lost another 8 lbs without changing anything else about my lifestyle.

but here's where the rat's "you know what" comes in.

it's summer. all throughout our neighborhood, round about 4pm, people start heating up their grills. and the smell of searing meat flesh fills the air. i swear to you, it's like having a nic fit that starts at 4pm and ends at 10pm when the ever-wafting smell of barbequed meat finally has mercy and leaves the air.

i've looked for vegan grilling options that might be comparable, that might satiate the desire for a wet, freshly grilled hamburger. the portabella burgers, and sad attempts at grilled tofu, have done nothing for me. coitus non firma.

i really don't want to give in. but nail-biting and foaming at the mouth will only get you so far, when what you really want is a juicy hamburger.

got tofu?

ladies and gentlemen, for my next trick...

in the shower this morning, where i have all of my clear-headed thoughts, i was thinking that i should write something on my blog. it's been a while since i wrote here, and for once i'm actually doing really well. i just celebrated a birthday last week, representing another year of life lived, another circle around the sun, and another season of self learning. compared to last year at this same time (read all blogs beginning in may 2006), i feel like a different person; better, clearer, fuller. perhaps it is the shifting seasons, or the onslaught of healthy choices. but who wants to read that sunshiny happy crap on someone's blog? ya'll come here for the endless wallowing misery, you know it. because misery is the best blog fodder.

speaking of misery, allow me to tell you what happened to me this morning after i got out of the shower, dressed, and headed to work.

at approximately 8:33am, i got into the first car accident of my adult life (accidents in highschool don't count. what the eff does a highschooler know about driving anyway?). now, i know what you're thinking... "oh, she was probably texting in the car like she always does" or perhaps you're thinking "she was probably doing her makeup while driving again" or maybe, for those of you who really know me "she was practicng 'the buffalo' and 'the robber' while driving again? she's really gotta cut that out". but i will have you know, that i was doing none of these things.

i was paying attention, watching the road, hands to the wheel, eyes to the pavement. and then, in the fraction of a fraction of a second, someone nearly pulled out in front of the person who was driving in front of me, who reflexively slammed on their brakes, which, as the laws of physics would have it, did not leave me enough time to reflexively stop. the sweet tender spot on the hood of my toyota matrix ("sister christian") met the trailer hitch of the gas-guzzling-earth-destroying-big-toosh SUV in front of me, which subsequently crumpled the hood, and probably some important expensive shit under the hood, like a cheap church bulletin.

shock. disbelief. panic. confusion. fear. denial. pain. more pain. yup, more pain...

on the prompting of the gentle yet authoritative police officer who responded to the scene, i got a free ride in an ambulance, 4 hours at methodist hospital that i can never get back, and some valium and vicodin to take the edge off.

here's to hoping that car insurance, prescription pain medications and "god-help-me" prayers all deliver what they promise: protection, relief, and peace, respectively.