I don't think this counts as my long-anticipated drunk post, but I did just enjoy my first White Russian. No, not Anna Kournikova (AS IF I would take sloppy seconds from Enrique Iglesias), but rather the mixed drink made famous by the Dude in The Big Lebowski. Courtney and I were talking Lebowski the other day and decided the time was right to make some Caucasians.
So rather than down a few pints of Guiness, we're drinking a couple thousand miles further east (though no self-respecting Russian would dilute their vodka with milk and Kahlua), although I am wearing a green shirt. Verdict (on the drink, not the shirt): I love the Dude, but that is one girly drink. As with most girly drinks, though, it'll get you drunk before you know it, so take it easy, kids.
And that's as far as I got last night, so welcome to Tuesday. I just read Courtney's post over at Malfeasance and it has inspired some strong feelings in me that I probably shouldn't share but, like most things I probably shouldn't do, I will anyway... but I must have woken up a little smarter this morning because after typing another two paragraphs the delete key has taken care of it. I will say this, however: What's the big deal with being employed? I've had it both ways and, please tell me I'm not alone on this, not working is way better. I know, bills must be paid and all and I'll just stop there.
It's just that I've had this crazy idea bouncing around in my head for the past ten years regarding our over-the-top work ethic as a species (Look at squirrels! They play all day!) and every time I try to put it down on paper I can't seem to keep my thoughts organized and rational. Probably because it's not a rational line of thinking. Whatever.
The other night I got out of bed at 1 a.m. and wrote the following statement down in the dark on the back of a receipt: Cannibals are the only honest people when it comes to diet.
Here's where I think that thought came from: We had dinner at Moe's on Saturday and the college student putting our burritos and nachos together, between asking us if we liked bluegrass and mentioning that he was in a band, remarked that we were a couple of vegetarians. It's true we just happened to have ordered the Art Vandalay and a Ruprict, both meat-free dishes, but a vegetarian that does not make. I told him "I just try to eat less meat," but it got me thinking.
And apparently I was still thinking as I lay in bed later that night and began considering the dietary honesty of cannibals. While the rest of us (at least those of us who waste our lives worrying about such things) consider the impact of certain foods on the health of both our bodies and the environment, with vegans supposedly holding the moral high ground and red-meat eaters currently controlling the status quo and just about everything else, the cannibals (excepting those adolescent cannibals who refuse to eat their vegetables and the odd lactose-intolerant cannibal) just go ahead and eat everything. They are utterly unconcerned and unnaffected by a greater society that seems entirely confused, after millions of years of evolution, about what it is right to put in their bodies. Of course I'm not advocating cannibalism here, nor vegetarianism, nor filet mignon, I'm just saying I appreciate the honesty of the only people forthright enough to just eat everything, the rest of us be damned.
Maybe, while I'm wandering the aisles of the supermarket worrying about the ethics of meat and industrial agriculture, I should just be eating my enemies.
Now if only I had some enemies.