When I came home, my apartment mate asked me what the difference was between an enema and a colonic. This in the spirit of intellectual curiosity, of course. She was neither threatening to administer either procedure, NOR contemplating subjecting herself to one or the other.
She was just curious.
Personally, I do not care to think about such things. But in the spirit of encouraging scientific awareness, I looked it up on the internet, and read her two detailed paragraphs.
No, I shan't cite any of the material here.
I encourage scientific awareness.
Look it up yourself.
Research!
My apartment mate sometimes has only the haziest idea of suitable dinner-table conversation. She was eating soup noodles and chicken bits when she asked, and when I responded.
Two detailed paragraphs ...
I was not eating at the time, having tackled cheung fan with fresh shrimp, chun kuen, and pork siumai earlier in Chinatown, followed some time later by milk-tea and an egg tart. Smoked a big bowlful of Virginia and visited City Lights Bookstore in between those two events.
I shall try not to think about dubious medical procedures when fixing my own dinner later this evening.
I suspect that my apartment mate is spending too much time around white people. Caucasians in San Francisco are a rare breed, being mostly vegan anti-meat activists and retards obsessed with colon health. The World Health Organization may have recently decided that bacon is dangerous, the typical San Francisco whitey overwhelmingly came to that conclusion years ago, and lumps it in with peanut-crusted tofu.
Deep-fried in corn oil.
Most of us are fanatically "tolerant" ambi-sexual anti-vaxxers deeply involved with recycling our chakras. We're green and spiritual.
Save nature, mofo, save nature!
Win valuable prizes.
SUAVE, RATIONAL, AND DUTCH
[Stubborn and middle-aged too, but that isn't germane.]
I usually eat by myself, seeing as I have not found someone with whom to share agreeable conversation during lunch or dinner. By which I only mean intelligent discussion that does not involve strange medical procedures or instruments, goofball health superstitions, or over-the-top crazy ranting about how I'm killing myself by eating meat, or smoking tobacco.
I'm looking for someone who will gladly share pork, steamed fish, lamb or goat curry, crisp bitter vegetables with oyster sauce or abalone sauce, dumplings, charsiu pastries, egg tarts, or food made with butter.
Hot sauce is optional, but never-the-less preferred.
A fondness for hot beverages is a must.
Roast duck, roast pork, roast beef.
And Béarnaise sauce.
Bacon.
She must also be willing to put-up with an eccentric apartment mate.
The small stuffed animals only come alive when Savage Kitten channels for them, and I'm rather fond of the furry nutballs.
As well as the apartment mate.
Alternative medicine adherents, creationists, religious types, angry lesbians, or vegans, will NOT be part of the programme.
Just so you know.
May I offer you some gluten?
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