Devil carbs... How I love thee!

Salad? Oh, you mean my food's food.

If "vegetarian" is an old Native American word for bad hunter, "carbohydrate" is an old scientific word for fat guy's happy place. 

I support P.E.T.A. and the humane treatment of animals. No Fat Jokes Please takes very little serious in life, except for serious matters, of which we try and avoid like the plague. I will not be on their mailing list congratulating me on going vegan in the not so ever future. However, animals for consumption should be treated with respect, never placed in torment, and dispatched quickly. Their loss gives me an enriched life. Their protein is highly favored. Their meet in moderation should sustain my life for decades to come. Wish I could say that about carbohydrates.

Carbohydrates, aka Carbs, are the food pyramid's playground dime-bag pushers. I got hooked on their goodness before the first word of the English language crossed my lips. Sugar addiction makes heroin addiction seem like bubble gum and rose peddle farts. Sugar coats my double helix with multiple generations of sucrose in the veins. To make matters worse I have bread in the head all the time.

Bread is on my mind morning, noon, and night! So when a longtime best friend introduced me to man salads, food went from fun to fuel. Not to minimize things; there are hardy portions of protein, tasty vegetables, and cheese mixed with a little sauce. By substituting the carbohydrate for a bed of mixed greens I get a wonderfully, and overtly grown up man salad. The concoctions are really good. Who is this person I've become?!? I hope time travel is not invented anytime soon... which could prevent future me traveling back in time to goat past me into kicking present me's butt for eating salads. Who am I kidding? Carbs have rewritten my core instincts. The reptile part of my brain has gone from fight, flight or freeze to white, wheat, or six-cheese. Doomed from the start!