Today we discussed the ethics of meat eating.

Well, there goes my plan of pushing off important issues in order to exempt myself from facing my utter depravity.

Thanks, philosophy!

Now, for your enjoyment, a series of sad cows.

Now for a repository of thoughts on the matter:
I don't derive pleasure from the fact that the cow I'm eating was likely tortured and killed. I derive pleasure from its tasty flesh, and I would be equally happy consuming imitation meat. However, fake meat does carry with it that tinge of emptiness of knowing that what you're eating is not the robust muscle tissue of a once vigorous animal.

I Get to be Gawky Again!

I think my natural clumsiness has been intensified by my sudden growth spurt.

Things I've broken or otherwise damaged since yesterday:
- A Pyrex cup
- My foot
- My dignity

Ever since late May, I've been finding it difficult to walk without smashing my hip into something, contorting my legs, and tripping.

Also, my perception of height has completely changed because I'm still functioning in a mode in which height is judged by relativity, and the basis for comparison was my former height, which I thought was my permanent height. I mistakenly think someone is taller than I am, but my perception is slowly catching up with reality.

I think I've grown at least an inch, possibly two. It isn't like when I had my first growth spurt and I would wake up every morning and hulk over the sink more than I was hulking the day before.

Oh, Threadless

I came upon you one fine day through my roommate (Hi, Leah). You never fail to make meh smilez.

I was browsing the site, when I came upon this brilliance:

I thought, "This is swell! I needed one of these today. Now I can warn others before they get angry at me that this particular park was executed poorly and I'm not going to repark because deal with it."

And then I thought, "Well, why in heavens would I need to buy a 15-pack? Or... a 30-pack? I think I just need four at most (one for each side of my car)."

And then I realized that these were meant to be stuck on others' cars, and only I would consider sticking it on my own car.

I can see this being used as it was originally intended. In a manic spree, perhaps. In the bubble of hot anger and indignity. You know how road rage gets. Ain't nothing like some cathartic road rage.

I'm joking!!!!