Monday, April 30, 2012

Don't Cum Where You Feast

Do you ever find yourself cutting the ennui of your monotone, listless, half hampered early mid twenties by saying fuck it, I'm going to go watch the game and eat my favesies veggie burger of all time, and drink a beer (immediately BEFORE work), just to shake the shit out of the sleeping corpse of excitement that has become your life?  

This is what I decided to do on Saturday, to plague the fantastic burger establishment Stackhouse with my mopey fucking face. I was also dressed like some sort of manic phased lesbian, so there's that. I go there to eat alone k?they have a tv, bar stools, and if you were feeling obnoxiously indulgent, there are also chairs and tables for parties of two or more. On this particular occasion I chose the stool one in from the right, waved away the menus, and set my roots.  

My beer arrived quickly, foamy and frosty, so idyllic, and at this point in my alcoholism, tasting like a life force purer than water, or liquid 325.5 k diamond for that matter.  ......and then it dawned on me.  This is PURRRRRRRFECT. having a place, where I feel so comfortable being alone.  I don't need a reason other than this, and let us be honest here, BALLS OUT INSANE TARRAGON AOILI DOUSED, EDAMAME FILLED, ARUGULA CASCADING VEG BURGER FROM THE PLANET CALLED FUCKING TASTY TREATS BIIIITCHES.
I can orgasm rapidly and silently on my little stool as each mouthful of lovingly crafted vegetarian gold hugs me from the tummy side out. Have you ever had an eating disorder? Dude, just come to Stackhouse, its on Granville and Davie across from the Morrissey, and just love, and be loved, by this delicious inanimate food object.  

But, that isn't even why I'm writing today.  I wanted to type about how fucking precious being alone is sometimes.  I have never brought a lover, as its awkward receiving so much carnal, gustatory pleasure from food in front of other people.  It was bad enough that the most insanely hot bartender/ server that works there had to stand by while I basically fake watched the Washington rangers game, disguising the roiling pleasure building inside of me as I ate and creamed in my seat.  

He was reaaaaally hot.

But yea, moral of the story, Stackhouse is a sacred sanctuary untainted by the visceral grip of death that is the companionship of a lover.  Annnnd, it's gunna stay that way. Haha.