Friday, April 6, 2012

How Not To Eat

The mechanics of successful eating are deceptively difficult. So often I'll find that pasta evades my fork, or that yogurt would rather be down my shirt than in my stomach, or I that  I've somehow managed to drop an entire waffle right into my lap. Often the best I can hope for - the best any of us can really ever hope for - is the ability to eat in public without looking like a disgusting monster.

So why are you so fucking determined to make eating even worse? Every time you open your mouth to voice some unsolicited inanity there's your food, in all its mushy despair. I don't want to watch as your food-flecked teeth and slimy tongue pulse your meal into oatmeal. No one wants to watch that. It's pornographic, but in the wrong way. And those noises you make - the smacking, the wet slurping, like you're giving your first blowjob in a broken toilet stall at a gas station behind a Denny's, knees planted in murky water, face planted in a fetid crotch. That is what you sound like.

You are a terrible person. You are made of garbage. Close your fucking mouth.

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