Oh, the rise of foodies. Amateur food critics who are very particular about the kinds of food they eat. The never-ending criticisms about how they like their coffee hand dripped not from a French press, and they’re insulted if you even mention a Keurig. They’re always going on and on about how they’re replanting their herb garden this weekend or how this burger tastes a little less than grass-fed. And don’t even bother asking them if they want a to-go box, they don’t eat leftovers.

Some people are greatly bothered by these specimens who call themselves foodies, but I however do not give a shit what they call themselves because I do not care. I can call myself a princess but I do not reside in a palace, I do not have a servant who brushes my hair and another who wipes my butt. They can call themselves foodies, but they did not attend culinary school, they do not have a case full of awards, and no one gives a shit about their opinion.

So the next time you find yourself in the presence of one of these foodies, smile as you sip your coffee from McDonald’s and take a bite of your microwavable corn dog.


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