When it comes the time that your hostess, or host serves you race graded human food for dinner you be polite, you eat it and you shut the fuck up; it was slaughtered in the most humanely possible way that is known to humankind.
Stranger: Don’t you wanna have a drink.
Me: Two sobers, please.
Going vegan feels like a loss of everything just like the feeling of a post breakup; a post breakup with sociopaths.
Stranger: Don’t you wanna have a child.
Me: Look at this heart, it is so big that I would rather let it explode.
The low-grade version of the society.
“She walks like a spy,” says the passerby.
La honte qu’on m’a foutue; la honte. J’te jure, c’est la honte.
Fortunately, they shot me too pretty for a blur.
“Eat a bag of dicks,” relevant when your Friday nights consist of diving inside a bag of Munchos.
When strangers look more important; go ahead, and let them take care of you.