So, I woke up and Darling asked if I'd come over. I didn't see him yesterday so I thought it would be a lovely idea. I went to his house and hung out with him and his family and had a good time. Then they started getting ready for dinner and I started to get ready to leave for work. I knew they would be eating meat, like most American families, so I was going to leave a little earlier so no one would feel awkward about my lack of meat-eating. My stomach felt the need to start making dying whale noises, and Darling then decides to make a big deal about me being hungry, and I could smell the smoked pork and I lost my willpower and ate said pork. It. Was. Awesome. Bro. My taste-buds have betrayed me.
I left for work after I ate and my stomach shut up like the little traitor it was. On my way to work I got into a car accident. Like, pretty bad on my end. I mean, no one else was hurt, but I had a seatbelt burn and hit my head pretty hard. I've decided it was the pork. I'm never eating meat ever again. I cursed myself and now all meat is unholy.
That may be a bit ridiculous, but really. No. More. Pork.
Pork is like a smart phone. Eat pork, become distracted because the taste lingers on your tongue, ram the car in front of you. Or text somebody while driving. Same principle (or could even be your principal...)
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