Beans, Beans, the Magical Fruit

The sort of secret blog of Beans, a.k.a. Jules, a.k.a. "Legs for Miles" a.k.a. "Rackie the Boob Queen." Fine, ok, not the last two. Starting July 2006, sometimes "Mike," aka "fagadoccio," is a co-poster on the blog. The co-poster child, really.

Monday, December 19, 2005

Green Envy

Of course I count among the steak-and-martini types that think of vegetarians not as people who have made a deliberate choice, but as people who were born weak. Were we walking in the street with our vegetarian friend and he or she were to be cherry-picked by a roaming coyote, we would shrug and continue on, thinking "Well, it was always a liability, Marjorie's weak constitution." That Marjorie was a Greco-roman mat wrestler with a love of animals would not matter. She was anemic, weak, while we steak-and-martini breed, arteries wheezing, left arm numb, cock-eyed on Scotch, consider it inevitable that we outlive Marjorie's kind.

That said, I'm starting to have vegetarian fantasies. And no, not about a celery stalk and a plum tomato getting dirty in the frigidaire, I mean fantasies about ME. FOREGOING MEAT. I envision pounds falling off my body like Alpine snow sheets in April, my complexion glowing like a saint's, energy up, hair down, bra off, drinkin' smoothies, smokin' stogies rolled in strips of my own linen palazzo pants...

Oh my God, I figured it out: I just want a girlfriend.


At 9:24 AM, Blogger Sam said...

Hey beans, Jules, whatever, don't become a vegetable! We turned into fish eaters, though, after discovering all the madness that goes into red meat products. What the heck, what's a little mercury in the fish? Ever head of "fish flu" or "mad fish disease"?

Besides all the inevitable fish dishes, one I like is stuffed fish. You can cut steaks and put in a cream & crab filling or get some small filets like flounder and roll 'em up like doobies. Fish doobies is what I call 'em.


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