This is America, right? And as Americans, we have the right to pursue whatever it is that makes us happy. Maybe you like to paint portraits of homeless people eating bell peppers? Well guess what? Paint away! Maybe you like to dress up as Marilyn Monroe and teach kick-boxing classes? Again, have at it! I am in full support of the general population's crazy taste for doing/enjoying weird shit. There's a reason why 200+ years ago a bunch of wig-wearing slave-owners shot each other in the face with muskets from nine feet away and then hacked off their limbs to survive another ten years only to die by scurvy or something equally as horrible - so we can have the right to do all this crazy shit and not give a fuck about one another! USA USA USA!
But one thing I am not in favor of is when people's interests infringe on my God-given right to not fucking want to hear or care about your opinion on anything, ever. Especially food. Even more especially (real thing): lunch food. Lunch is great. I love lunch. I like to each my lunch and read stuff on the internet. I sometimes eat really slow so I can read a lot of articles and giggle and clap my hands while I think about how much fun I am having. I eat and sing in my head and really enjoy my lunch, and this happens mostly when I'M LEFT THE FUCK ALONE.
When I hit twenty-seven or twenty-eight years old, a lot of people I knew suddenly became amateur food critics. Fine, whatever, I don't care. But then these same people decided to start criticizing what and where I ate. Why? Beats the shit out of me. I don't care if you like to eat sand from the sandbox at your kids daycare center, it really doesn't matter to me. Some people like to eat mayo and tongue sandwiches. Again, as long as you're not shoving that sandwich in my face and making me barf all over my new pair of slacks that I got on sale from J.Crew(!), I don't care what kind of creepy shit your palette tells you to eat.
Even worse than providing unwanted food consultation is when people decide to insult the place that I just ordered from. "Oh Taco Factory, that place was listed as the dirtiest place in Manhattan. They found a corpse in the walk-in fridge lying on the lettuce." Oh did they? Thanks, I'll just throw this in the trash and starve to death. Also, remember when I asked your opinion? No, I don't remember that part either, because I didn't ask for your opinion. Again, I can't stress this enough, you're opinion, when it comes to lunch, means nothing to me. Go eat your fucking horrible Gazpecho and shut the fuck up.
I also don't like the person who thinks they are a critic for Men's/Women's Health. "You should really stay away from all of those carbs." Thanks, doctor, where do I send my co-payment? How about I send it to the house you used to live in because I BURNED IT DOWN? If I want to eat a loaf of fucking bread for lunch, guess what? I am going to eat a loaf of fucking bread for lunch. Don't project your fucking insecurities on me because you saw an uptick in your weight and spent the weekend crying on the floor of your closet.
There is also the person who will see what you're eating, and automatically dismiss it and say they know a better place. Oh, so you know the best pizza place in the city? Sweet! Where is it? Uhhh, so you're saying that I have to crawl into the sewer on 79th street, walk 50 blocks south until I get to the underground mole people compound, give them some bananas, pass the toll, make a left, and ask for Julio, who will then take me by rickshaw to the magical palace of fucking pepperoni and sausage slices? Yeah, I'm not going to do that. And while we're on the topic of terribleness - let's talk about you. You are terrible. And by the way, the reason that place is so hard to access is because the pizza is laced with heroin. Enjoy failing your next drug test and playing tetherball in prison with a 600 pound rapist named Tonka Love.
Just to make life easier - Americans should all wear two-sided signs around our necks that read "I am interested in your opinion about food" on one side and "Fuck Off" on the other. It would very much make life so much easier and better. And if I one day accidentally leave my sign on the former statement, then by all means, please tell me in detail about the duck flambe you ate yesterday with your stupid friends. I will be sure to no my head vigorously event though I will never eat it and probably go jump into the river.
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