battle 29–radishes

In the spirit of trying new things, I ate an eyeball.
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a blonde, an asian american, and barbara boxer walk into a bar

Public transportation turns me on, y’all. I don’t mean, like, I see a city bus and get all hot and bothered; I just mean I have a real love for the lifestyle I think a good mass transit system supports. Whenever I dream of my life as a tortured, starving artist (with expensive shoes and a Jenny Aniston hair cut, circa now, not circa Friends), it’s always midnight and I’m on a train headed home to my postage stamp-sized apartment from whatever gallery opening or swank new restaurant I couldn’t afford so I just stood at the bar sipping tap water with lime and looking hot with my pretty shoes. Shoes, glorious shoes.
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eat, vegetables, love

Does anyone remember how all this foolishness got started? I’ve been thinking about it lately while I haven’t been cooking or eating vegetables but have been eating some great meat cooked by other people at Decatur’s newest burger joint. The answer is: I have no idea. I think it was an accident. I mean, I know I had a series of revelations about what a baby I’ve been about eating vegetables all my life, but no other revelation has ever led me to wake up one day and forfeit a way of life I’ve worked so hard for. I think it’s possible my abducted by aliens theory may have legs.
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