"I am the fat. There's little good about me. Eat enough of my brethren and you will become a bloated bag, unable to move. Your blood pressure will soar, and in time, you will collapse. Defeated, forgotten. But you will continue to adore my kind, because, let's face it, we're freaking awesome."
A hamburger, knows the score
"I'm so lonely."
Brussell sprouts, the most melancholy of the healthy meal choices
"I am NOT Italian! I'm CHINESE! STOP CALLING ME EUROPEAN!"
Pasta, unsure of its origins
"Humans think they're the picky ones. No no no, my friends. We are the picky ones. We choose whom we want to eat us. True, there are those who are not elitist, but... well. One must have standards. I refuse to be eaten by some New York taxi driver. Not without putting up a fight! Bring me a rich man!"
A plate of foie gras, too cultured for its own good
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