I found myself nauseated in the grocery store today. Normally if I feel nauseated in the grocery store, it’s because I’m in the potted meat aisle. There is something inherently wrong with potted meat, and if the lack of refrigeration and sci-fi-like expiration dates (“Best before 2112!”) don’t put you off, the contents should. A friend of mine once lost his fucking mind and tried Vienna Sausage, an experience he likened to eating pig dicks soaked in vomit, which in my mind is an insult to both pig dicks and vomit, because Vienna Sausages are fucking rank. Continue reading