I need to talk to you about SPAM.
Not the emails that never fucking get filtered into the junk folder but SPAM. Meat in a can. Most omnivores won’t even touch the shit so you must imagine how a vegetarian feels about it.
I think it’s made mostly from pork. I don’t know. Who the hell cares.
The point is that it’s GROSS. And if you like SPAM then stop reading this post because I’m not interested in your positive feelings towards SPAM or meat in general.
Jacob, my dear husband, hasn’t eaten SPAM in a long time. Years. He does this out of respect for me and because I won’t fucking buy it for him. For our Halloween potluck last year he decided that among all of the vegetarian dishes that would be present (my step-sister is vegetarian and my dad and step-mom are cutting out animals for health reasons) he would bring a dish that the meat eaters would enjoy- macaroni and cheese with, you guessed it, SPAM.
He cooked it himself and shared it with the family on Halloween. No big deal. I ate my meatless chili and cupcakes and drank my beer.
And then the leftover mac ‘n cheese ‘n SPAM abomination came back home with us.
Fine. He will eat the rest (hopefully quickly) and it will be out of our lives.
After dinner he was still hungry (I’m not sure how that’s possible but whatever) or bored or whatever so he decided to warm up the rest of the mac ‘n cheese ‘n SPAM for a snack. The smell overpowered the house and to add insult to injury he sat next to me on the sofa and ate it. I tried to not be an asshole while he ate it but the aroma of the cooked rubbery meat was giving me a headache.
AND AND AND once he finished his “food” he put the dishes in the sink. Probably. Whatever. I asked him to wash out the dishes because the smell was making me sick. So he filled the pot the mess was cooked in and the bowl he ate it in with water. He said that he put dish soap in it too but I didn’t check.
That isn’t washing the dishes is it, Jacob?
I love my husband and appreciate him for understanding my disdain for meat but COME ON! Hours later the smell lingers in the air. It’s nauseating.
Okay. I’ll get off of my high horse. But I still want to throw up.
