About as welcome as a vegan at a party, a turd in a bathtub, a fart in an elevator, pork ribs at a bar mitzvah, a sax solo, “this one’s off our new album” at a Day On The Green gig.
They’re ok at parties, but not welcome at a bbq. Many years ago my vegan cousin came for said bbq. I didn’t know much about the whole way of life so I was about to slap a veggie burger in the sausage fat. Well the stare that I received as I was about to place it on the plate made my heart skip a few beats in fear. The frying pan was produced quick smart.
I did do exactly that to the quinoa, kale and wandering dew burgers (or whatever the hell they were…) that the tiresome vegan girlfriend at the time of a friend brought to a BBQ. I’d like to think a part of me did it deliberately, but it was an honest mistake I swear…
The poor lass starved and glared sullenly at me for the duration of the event…