Defeated by an elephant turd

Operation Carnivore Conversion experienced some serious setbacks during the holidays. Sadly, John’s willpower failed when confronted with “blackjack steak,” which was especially demoralizing for me since this marinated tri-tip looks like an elephant turd. Seriously – he fell off the veg wagon for this ugly black slug. Can you believe it? I’m still struggling to understand how meat-eaters can gnaw on something like that looks like this. Hearing his moans of pleasure, I believe we have identified John’s kryptonite.

You won this round, blackjack, but I will win the war. See, John has other weaknesses that I’m more than willing to exploit. For example, he would rather eat lint than grocery shop, so his only chance of getting blackjack is if our friends bring it over. Ha ha, gotcha blackjack!

Unfortunately for me, one of our smart-ass carnivore friends overheard me celebrating this fact so he launched a counter-mission called “Operation Enduring Meat” and vowed to slip John a blackjack every now and then. Dammit!

Well apparently it’s game on! Now I have to work extra hard to make veggie meals ultra appealing so that John will crave them. Hopefully one day, he too will wonder how the hell he ever ate something that looks like an elephant turd!

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Categories: Fails

Author:Cimeron

Cimeron Morrissey is an award-winning magazine writer who writes about her passions, which include travel, water sports, animal rescue and food.

Operation Carnivore Conversion

This is Operation Carnivore Conversion, an ambitious and potentially hazardous project to transform my meat-loving husband into a vegetarian. Recognizing that his diet was shared by Tyrannosauruses but not by humans who live very long, he has decided - reluctantly - to try to dramatically reduce his consumption of animal-based foods. The success of this project relies on my ability to serve inventive and tasty meals that would satisfy even a femur-gnawing caveman (and to prepare them in less than 30 minutes since I don't have much time). This is a high-risk endeavor. If my husband feels deprived or underwhelmed, he will see my arms as snack-shaped objects and/or whine me to death. Failure is not an option. Oh boy, here we go!

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