Dinner at your place? Sounds great. I just have a few dietary restrictions you should know about first:
I call myself a “recovering vegetarian.” Which means, I was a real vegetarian for over ten years. But now I eat fish. No chicken. No pork. And no red meat. Oh, and no gelatin. That stuff is disgusting.
Soup? If it’s made with anything but vegetable or fish stock, you can shove it up your ass.
Indian food? Pass. That’s exactly what that curry will do when it hits my stomach: pass right through me. Same goes for Thai food. Not a good thing for me.
Mexican? It’s a possibility. Just don’t use any lard. And leave those fucking jalapeños out. Unless of course, you’re trying to kill me.
Greek? Bad idea. I don’t like feta cheese. Or Kalamata olives. Bleh.
Italian? Maybe. Just don’t try to sneak any of that fuckin’ meat sauce in my food. I can smell it a mile away. I prefer angel hair with fresh, diced tomatoes, basil, garlic and a touch of olive oil. Marinara sucks.
What’s that? Oh, I understand. Maybe it’s better if we just go out. I know this great organic vegan restaurant not too far from here. They make the best tofu pot pie on the West coa… Oh. Okay. No, no. It’s cool. Maybe some other time.
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