The Chicken or the Egg

Went to the Cheesecake Factory on Saturday (…at this point, I’m beginning to wonder if we should have our mail sent there) with The Girl and my friend Chris. I had my ‘usual’: 1/2 of an obscenely fleshy turkey sandwich and a garden salad as I watched Chris devour his golden brown grilled cheese sandwich and fries piled a mile high and Maeg pick at her spicy enchiladas hidden beneath a blanket of cheese and Pico De Gallo.

We decided to take our full bellies over to Border’s so that I could grab a book I’ve been meaning to purchase for the last few weeks. Small problem: I forgot the name of the book. And the author’s name. And the general subject of the book. That’s cool. I’ll just grab another book, right? Right.

I bought Skinny Bitch.

Yeah. That was a douche-bag decision. According to these skinny bitches, it seems that my only option is to graze through the neighbor’s yard for all of eternity.

If you’re an alarmist or suffer from neurosis, don’t read this book. Seriously, don’t!

If you want to dry heave any time a slice, slab, or hunk of meat crosses your plate, read this book. If you want to hurl any time a loved one picks up a diet soda, read this book. If you want to spend 3/4 of your weekly paycheck buying organic foods for life, read this book. If you want to deepen your hate for the FDA and the commercialization of the food industry ten-fold, read this book.

For me, reading parts of this book is comparable to emptying a bottle of Cayenne Pepper into an open wound — especially the meat-related parts. I stopped eating meat when I was in middle school/high school for three very real reasons:

1. I was insanely paranoid that I would die from ingesting undercooked meat
2. I had control issues
3. I thought it was cool

It’s crazy how far a little neurosis can take you at such a young age, but I was off the blood for years until I contracted mono from a fellow classmate (just say ‘no’ to sharing lip gloss) and became severely anemic during my junior year in high school. I slowly began eating meat (beef and sausage only) in 2002 to reverse the side effects of feeling like complete ass.

To this day, I limit my red meat intake drastically — especially now that I am starting to eat better. Since the beginning of January, I’ve eaten one ostrich burger (which is actually really good), a few helpings of beef jerky, and two tiny slices of ham. Prior to that, I was probably averaging 4-5 ounces of beef and 3 ounces of sausage per week (if that).

Needless to say, I’m not a huge meat eater. Poultry? Now that is another story. If I’m not eating chicken that day then I am most certainly eating turkey instead. Chicken, chicken, chicken, turkey. Not only am I a huge chicken fan, but I also go out of my way to spend an ass-ton on ‘free range’ chicken because it’s supposedly living on some pimp-ass farm in the middle of Cow Country, right? Apparently not, but I won’t get into that. What I will get into is the fact that this book is trying to fuck with my poultry livelihood!

Not only that, but this book took a huge dump on eggs, too. Eating eggs causes my ears and throat to itch so I’m good when it comes to passing up the eggs, but they also decided to crap on Egg Beaters. And fish.

SERIOUSLY, FOLKS. WHAT’S LEFT TO EAT?

I will be swallowing this puppy with a grain o’salt.

And perhaps a chicken omelette to boot.