When I was having a panic attack at a wedding and didn’t know what to do with my hands, so I ate eleven cookies while a woman I didn’t know talked to me about the sociology of K-Pop.
When I was bamboozled and drunk and took a bite of a pizza crust, because pizza crusts are usually safe, and I like to imagine that they report back to my stomach so my bile and its flour can reminisce all about the pizza-proper and how, sure, crust-sauce-cheese made a delicious ménage à trois, and they had a good run, but ultimately the crust was happier now that it was independent, and it’s thinking about starting a podcast that invites third-generation Americans to come and talk about their racist grandparents’ favorite holiday dishes, but then it turned out the crust had egg in it.
When I paid extra for a vegan brownie at a local cafe but the barista gave me the cheaper, not-vegan brownie, and after I ate half of it I had a WAIT A MINUTE moment, so I asked if it was true, did she really give me the non-vegan brownie? And she said yes, oh my God, I’m sorry, yes, here, take a vegan brownie, take TWO vegan brownies, I’m so sorry! And then I ate both a vegan and non-vegan brownie, which resulted in a tummy ache.
When I spent four months drinking milk stouts, because I didn’t think they actually had milk in them. (Is that really so unreasonable? Shouldn’t the alcohol cause the milk to curdle?)
When I wear my Doc Martens, but, to be fair, I had those before I went vegan. Plus they make me look cool.
When I gently bite my dog’s ear to assert dominance because that’s what Cuba Gooding Jr. did in his wildly underrated slapstick tour de force, Snow Dogs (2002).
Even though I'm technically an adult, I still gnaw on the skin around my fingernails, which is a kind of self-cannibalism and falls into a vegan gray-area.
Sometimes, when I brush my teeth, there’s a lot of blood in my spit. I’m not ethically bothered by this, but do you think I should be worried? I’m too embarrassed to ask any of my friends.