Do you ever wander into the grocery store when you’re having a maniacal, carnivorous rampage?

Perhaps you wander over to the meat counter and pick out two very thick, very juicy, very pricey New York Steaks. Surely this is enough meat to quell your suspected protein deficiency. But, no. You glance over at the sale sign. You see full racks of ribs. You grab one and put it in your very full basket of meat. Did I mention that the only reason you meant to come into the store was to get a can of coconut milk? This is why you opted for the basket. One item. No biggie. Now you look down at a heavy basket brimming with steak and ribs (and ground beef, and chicken — I told you, it was a meat-spree). The check out clerk looks at you like you should be ashamed. He’s most likely vegan. The kind of dude that has carrots tattooed on his forearms. You like him. He asks if you’re having a party. You simply say “A party of two”. He gives you a very distinct look, communicating with garish certainty, “you’re going to die”. The only response to this in that moment is a very toothy grin. […]