carnivore

So, tonight I went with my friend Aaron (my roommate back in the undergrad days) to dinner at another friend's place. We had steak and salad and bread. But one of the steaks--one from Tom's dad--was huge, a one-and-a-half-inch-thick slab of ribeye. So we left it on the grill while we had dinner. Then, after we gorged ourselves, the big steak was finally done. We had it for dessert.

We're the opposite of vegetarians. While other people are cutting out meat during the main course, we're adding it to additional courses. Mmmm, steak. It's like ice cream, only meaty. Mmmmm.

Then, after dinner, we came back to Aaron's house and played video games. I just died 29 times and killed one enemy, playing a first-person shooter. At this point I'm happy to report no feelings of increased aggression. I don't feel like driving down to Federal and shooting up the guy who pulls up next to me at the light. I don't feel any more like slapping the crappy customer service people at Kmart than I usually do. I don't feel like crying about all of the death and destruction I just participated in. I don't feel noticeably more violent or less sensitive than I was before tonight. I don't think I'll be going out to buy a new XBox, either.

Mmmm, steak.