You brag about how low maintenance you are. Then you ask where I'd like to go for dinner. We've been through this before, so I choose one from the list of the five measly restaurants that you're actually willing to patronize. You say, "Naw. What's your second choice?"

My "second" choice? Are you kidding me? On the list of the 700 or so places I would plausibly eat, this choice is about 690. My second choice was a steak house. My 300th choice was a tapas place that serves three vegan dishes you deem unworthy.

You may care about resource use and animal rights, but you're one selfish carrotfucker. I'm willing to limit all my nonbirthday dining to a list of five restaurants I dislike. Now shut the hell up and march your righteous intestines to whichever of those five places I dread the least.

Christ. I'm actually starting to hate you for this. Hipster dick is crazy overrated.