Crunchy, recycling granola head.

Not that there’s anything wrong with that!

My girlfriend’s a very conscientious recycler. We actually have more recyclables than trash every week. And if we didn’t have cat shit, well, we could almost live off the garbage grid.

So, recycle!

That said, don’t be a fucking lunatic about it!

You know the type I’m talking about, they make it a lifestyle. They brag about their carbon footprint; the fact that they only buy from locally grown organic farms; they’ve never met a tofu they didn’t love; the only pets they’ve ever owned were moments from being put down. None of that I mind, it doesn’t effect me, but it’s the tone of superiority that grates on my last surviving nerve.

I know it’s a quirk (most would and do say flaw) within me but whenever I run into one of these people I desperately fight the urge to get in a Bobcat and go on a bobcat killing spree. But, instead, I just mock them.

It keeps my mug shot off The Smoking Gun.

I hadn’t seen this person for years. Pretty much with good reason. I mocked her viciously (even I thought so. Didn’t stop me though) after she told a story about her ruining her families Thanksgiving because there may have possibly been a spatula used to move some meaty goodness then a slab of specially made vegan lasagna.

Okay, people have their rights, but, before my attack I asked if they in fact knew that unholy meat transference took place. They could not be 100% certain. That’s justifiable beat down in my book. The fact that my attack took place just after we’d eaten together and we were walking down the street with a bagful of garbage from the restaurant.

No, not leftovers. Trash. As in the stuff you leave behind to have someone else clean up. During the meal she asked if the restaurant recycled. When told, after a discussion with management, they didn’t she told them to leave everything because we would clear it and take it all with us.

So we hadn’t spoken in years. No great loss for me. I have plenty of material. But, for whatever reason, she got in touch. She was in town to do the 25th anniversary AIDS walk. So, yes, nothing had changed. She came in to gloat that she hadn’t missed one of these walks in the 25 years. How she was a champions champion of goodness.

The problem is I’m still me.

It didn’t take me long to tire of her gasping at my households ONLY recycling for me to, for lack of a better term, want her to run away for another decade.

“Oh please! You’re not doing shit to help! All you’re doing is walking while patting yourself on the back! I’m out there in the trenches!”

“YOU?!?!?” She gasps. “What are you doing?”

“I’m stopping the spread of all STD’s among my friends. Just ask them. Ask them if, in their life, they’ve ever met a better cock blocker than me! No ones getting the drip on my watch!”

I watch as she remembers all the reasons she avoids me.

Mission accomplished!


One response to “Crunchy, recycling granola head.

  1. Bobcats aren’t so good for a killing spree.

    I flipped mine before I even got to 3….

    next time I’ll use a John Deer….
    nothing runs like a deer or smells like a john
    or maybe it’s vice versa

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