Day 12, Being Vegan at a Sports Bar and the Sound of Joy Behar’s Voice (read: things that suck)

No writing today. Maybe no writing tomorrow. My word count will come to a standstill for the time being. The gun is still going to remain a mystery for now.

I need to recover from 6 hours at Fisherman’s Wharf.

This includes eating, hanging upside down to relieve frontal lobe ache and getting out of fancy adult clothes that adults wear to important meetings and stuff.

It’s really easy to be an unemployed vegan. Not so much when you find yourself at a business lunch in a sports bar where every salad offered has a fried chicken breast, ranch dressing and hard boiled eggs on it. I found the one thing on the menu I could veganize and was presented with a grilled veggie wrap sans goat cheese. It was chocked full of peppers and onions. You know. The things that turn me into a complete fartbox when consumed in large quantities.

After I took a bite, I realized the one thing I really really really wanted inside this godforsaken wrap was awfully hard.

Unripe avocado. It’s chewy.


I refrained from deconstructing my meal and eating the pieces I wanted. I was in the presence of people in expensive suits. Trust me though, if I was by myself I would have stuck various slimy veggies to different surfaces within the booth I was in, maybe even spelling out the message: “FOR SHAME!!!”

I had been at this sports bar years ago when I was an omnivore who was working on replacing the bar stools in this joint. Back then there was more on the menu for me to eat but back then I was significantly heavier and my pudgy fingers were perpetually stained from buckets of buffalo wings (for shame, for reals).

Three hours later I found myself on a bus on the way home completely starving.

Transportation narcolepsy kicked in though and I passed out.

I like that I made emergency vanilla cupcakes this week complete with “butter cream” frosting. I ate several of them while I clawed through my fridge looking for more things to stuff in my face.

After housing some leftover green curry I find myself still hungry.

The novel is on hold. The meeting notes are on hold. I need to talk myself out of popcorn for dinner again. The boys are in the living room watching something that sounds annoying. I spend a lot of time listening to television since I hole up in the kitchen and my roommate holes up in the living room. I can hear it behind me. The voices. God. It sounds like a woman’s talk show. I decide to ask what it is.

“Is that The View?!”

“No but it’s one of the ladies from The View! She’s got her own talk show!”

I like how we yell across the apartment instead of getting up off of our own respective fat asses. Jessica and I used to be worse. We used to text each other from our bedrooms.


“Joy Behar!! It’s like Larry King for stupid people!”

Joy Behar’s voice is one of the reasons I left the East Coast. I grew up in New Jersey. I was scared that if I stayed I would hit 40 and start sounding like Joy Behar with Judge Judy’s surly attitude.


“IT IS!”

They’re still watching it.

I think I’m going to crawl into my laundry basket and hide and I’m taking the cupcakes with me.


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November 2009
« Oct   Dec »


  • cutting the necks and shortening all the sleeves on every t-shirt i own means i will have an endless supply of Flashdance tops. 1 day ago



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