Red meat, red whine. White meat, white whine. Fish, case by case basis but usually white wine. Get it straight or face eternal damnation.
The other night I got dangerously wasted in a They Might Be Giants t-shirt, and it felt wrong. It felt amoral, actually.
Maybe I’m not eating enough, maybe I’m just eating the wrong stuff. Like cake. Because I was holding a plate of cake earlier, and my arms shook with weakness, unable to hold up the medium-sized cake slice. Am I dying? I gobbled down the cake before my trembling hands dropped my Fiesta plate.