A life without dairy is epically tragic.
Unlike the myriad poseurs, I am not merely lactose intolerant; I am allergic. Dairy would mean certain itchy, anoxic doom.
I had comic block yesterday. I couldn’t quite get myself to do anything. Feeling aimless, I decided to inject a little purpose into my life. I decided to pick up a pizza for dinner. I called it in ahead of time: cheeseless extra large with garlic, black olives, and spinach.
I arrived to find that somehow “no cheese” was mistaken for “no pepperoni”. I asked for another, but they refused. I sauntered back home, peeled off the cheese (and subsequently all of the ingredients), and ate an extra large crust.
Such is my life in this dairy chauvinism.