You Decide


Speaking of being bad...I did something naughty today, Diary. I’ll let you decide if it was actually bad or not.


You know Mickey has a 19 year old daughter, Jalisa, and she’s vegan. How do I know she’s vegan? Because she WILL NOT STOP talking about it, like at all. Literally the first thing she said when I met her was:

            -You know, I can tell you’re not vegan because of the color in your cheeks. I think if you went on a more plant-based diet you would get rid of some of that redness. My dad could help you too, I’ve taught him so many vegan recipes he can do them in his sleep.


Let’s take a minute and break down everything that’s wrong with that statement, shall we? First of all, I don’t know why Mickey insisted that we meet. I mean, just because we’re around the same age doesn’t mean I’ll get along with his daughter. Besides, our relationship is more transactional than he likes to why does he insist on blurring boundaries? Is he trying to make what we have more real...?


I don’t know but that’s not what I want to talk about.


Why would I get along with some privileged brat from the Upper East Side? Maybe she thinks I’m like her dad’s other girlfriends who would agree with any and everything she said just to get into her good graces. But she is sadly mistaken...additionally, who the fuck insults someone’s appearance before introducing themselves? Also, has she forgotten who her father is? He can barely cook—how is he going to help me go vegan?


Anyway, so Mickey wants us all to come to Turks and Caicos for his birthday. It’s literally his entire family, his friends, and me. On his big day he says he wants to have breakfast with his “two best girls”, and he also asks me to cook. Remember, Jalisa is vegan, he says as if I could somehow forget.


I decide I’ll make tofu scramble, fresh juice, and muffins. But...instead of using Flaxseed for the oh-so-sensitive Jalisa...I used eggs instead.


And she could not stop raving about how good they were.


            -See, I told you, meat is obsolete. You don’t even need it anymore. Daddy, did you help her make it? Did you use my recipe? Oh-M-Gee, I can’t wait to make this again when I go back to Paris.


I’ve gotta admit, I admire her dedication to the cause. Sometimes, I even enjoy her company. But...I think I’ll enjoy her reaction when she finds out she ate eggs even more.

Nuni SnowdenComment