TMI/"Well, you don't know me" --Ray Charles (or Edwin Starr)

I know you think I'm all that. It's sweet, really. That look you get on your face; all googly-eyed. I can tell you're hot for me. Or constipated.

But you don't really know me.

You've probably figured out that doing the non-meat dealio, I eat tofu and gluten and all manner of weirdness including such loveliness as Tofurkey Jerky. Mmmm.

Still want to snuggle? Let's keep going...

I will contentedly eat mashed potatoes made from potato flakes.

Yup. Still feeling all oo-eey gooey? Okay...

I will eat canned corn. Cold. Right out of the can.

Yeah, I see that twitch.

I will eat canned peas, cold, right out of the can. You know those mushy, canned English peas with the weird tinny, sweet-vomit smell? Thaaaaat's right. Not even the fancy Le Sueur type.

Mm-hm. Now, you're taking your hand off my butt.

I will eat plain sour cream with potato chips. Or without potato chips. By. The. Spoonful.

I see you inching away.

Chinese food? Much better cold.

Shall I go on?

Better yet: What do you eat that is perhaps, shall we say, less than gourmet?*




* Food, people. FOOD.