Some people hate to be judged, and if, from prior experience, you’re also afraid it will also come with a side of animal sabotage, there goes any hope of enjoyment in dining out at a “regular” restaurant.

Fuck that. Who gives a shit if some server who is enough of an asshole to not care about feeding a vegetarian meat even though it can make them sick cares whether or not you are sanctimonious?

“Just don’t eat it” because vegetarians are simply no different from anyone who “just doesn’t like” something is a ridiculous false equivalence. Those of us who “have an aversion” to eating bugs aren’t asked to justify what our religious or ethical objections might be to them - although your stance is so dickish that…

It isn’t about saving the goddamn chicken.

Also depending on the person, some people can have a violent gastronomical reaction to meat if they’ve been vegetarian for some time.

A vegetarian is allowed to refuse to eat something that has come in contact with meat (like a TOSSED salad) because they do not eat meat and would prefer to avoid eating meat juices, etc. That's not being rude.

Not a vegeterian here, but I have friends who can’t/won’t eat what meat has touched because even the meat juice and byproducts can seriously tear up their system, since they were raised from birth as vegetarians and just can’t digest meat well.

You think a vegetarian who finds fucking meat in their food is just looking for comps?!

Humblebrag time.

This is only tangentially a food story, but it ends up in a Starbucks, so there you go.

None of us know either, so no fucking way I’m leaving the house this weekend

“There I was, enjoying a light repast at the Applebuddies club, engaging in a fine and stimulating discussion of Amanda McKittrick Ros’s brilliant use of simile and metaphor, when suddenly what should assault my ears but some jenny foreigner defiling the rarefied air of our great nation with her native tongue! Well I…

I saw her lift herself out of her chair and audibly fart. She farted. In a restaurant.

SODA. IT’S CALLED SODA, YOU MONSTERS.

Now stopping in Oklahoma, that’s something I have not done.

The South makes no sense. Ordering chips and dip with a Coke could literally mean chips and salsa with ohh I don’t know a Dr Pepper.

In a Mexican restaurant.

I am looking to hire cooks and waitstaff for my newest restaurant - Punchie’s This Is How We Serve It.