We are what we eat. We eat. We shit. Our produce grow from shit-fertilized soil. We become shit. Festive as that may be, enter the the "Eatateria," to discover an ever-increasing assortment of recipes for lovely meals, which we will soon shit out.
I eat, and I shit; therefore, "I am."
Monday, February 23, 2009
"I'm not crazy about reality, but it's still the only place to get a decent meal." — Groucho Marx
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