Meat and Magic
April 2014
I really like the idea of being a vegetarian, but it falls into the same category as saving myself for marriage or being a ninja, which is the “Completely Unrealistic” category.

I like meat.

Over the years my preference for meat has become increasingly more rare, in the same way that I have developed a tolerance for the amount of wasabi and hot sauce I can withstand. This falls into the “It Feels Good Right Now So Just Keep Doing It” category.

Here is a list of some other things that I like:

Watching YouTube videos.
Sitting and watching YouTube videos.
My dog.

My idea of a perfect night would be this: me, sitting on my sofa next to my dog, eating rare prime rib, drinking a nice coffee porter, masturbating while watching YouTube videos. The only problem is that I don’t have enough hands to do all of those things at the same time.

If I were magic things would be different. If I were magic, I would make it so that I could have orgasms and manipulate my computer with just my mind. Then, I could eat meat with one hand and I could alternate between drinking beer and petting my dog with my other hand. I’d have a bowl of horseradish and Au Jus on a little table beside me and I wouldn’t use a knife and fork to eat the meat. I’d eat it with my bare hands because fuck you this is my fantasy now and I can do what I want.

So, I was trying to figure out in this scenario where a relationship might fit in. I’m all out of hands. I’m not going to waste my meat hand on a relationship and if I add a relationship to my dog and beer hand, I wouldn’t get enough beer and why would I need hands for a relationship anyway? I don’t need hands for a relationship. I’m magic.

There’s no room for him on the sofa, though, with my dog on one side, the beer between my legs and the meat table on the other side, and he can’t be right in front of me because then he’d block the YouTube videos. He’d have to be off to the side sitting in a chair maybe, facing me. I don’t really care what he looks like as long as he can face me (and he’s showered and stuff).

I’d give him a comfortable chair, but not one of those beat-up, La-Z-Boy chairs. It would have to go with my decor. He could have pillows to make himself more comfortable and maybe an ottoman if he wanted to put his feet up or whatever, but no stupid lever on the side. That’s just tacky.

He’d have a guitar in his lap because of course he’d have a guitar in his lap, and while I’m eating meat with my bare hands, petting my dog, drinking beer and having orgasms with my mind, he could be singing me a song. A song that he wrote all by himself, just for me.

A song about how feminine I am.

I’d totally use my mind to mute the YouTube videos for that.

meat and magic
meat and magic
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