The deal with being a vegetarian is this: I never meant to be one. It was not like an aspiration or anything. My Sweet Lady was a vegetarian when we met. After we got married, I said, “I kind of like to cook,” and she said, “I kind of hate to cook.” In this way, I became the go-to cook. Vegetarian cook, of course, although I would from time to time make non-veg dishes for myself or if friends were coming. Once I made some gumbo that looked like poop and tasted like pie. When Tallulah came along, we fed her not the flesh of the beasts of the field, nor the birds of the air, neither the fish of the sea. She is a Martina Navratilova of vegetarians.
So, one day I was having breakfast with a crew at the J&S Cafeteria. I thought, “Maybe I will not eat meat today.” I ordered a western omelet. It had ham or something in it. The next day, I was having breakfast with a priest at the Huddle House. I thought, “Maybe I will not eat meat today.” I ordered a cheese omelet. It had no meat. The day has not yet arrived wherein I thought, “I’ll have meat today.” In the days since, I have learned enough about where most meat comes from to make it difficult to consider eating meat again. This is true of chicken and fish too, by the way. They are, in fact, meat. I have not yet sworn off cheese and eggs. Mostly because cheese and eggs are like chocolate and frosting to me.
So you can imagine my dilemma when it comes to the location of 16% of the wi-fi spots in the United States. There is nothing, no thing, that I want in a McDonalds. Except maybe a shake. Or their coffee. Occasionally. I definitely do not want to come home with Ronald funk all over me. But hey, free wi-fi. With the touchy as my link to hipness, and with its dependency on 802.11 a/b/g/n, I may be chillin’ with Grimace a lot more in the near future. Maybe they are asking for freeloaders, what with the Hamburgler and all that.