I remember the day that I tenderly unwrapped the package from Zazzle containing my first vegan bumper sticker. If soft piano music wasn’t playing in the background, it sure as hell should have been because that moment was effing magical. It’s a well known fact that I make a BFD about even the mundane – but I went straight-up Navin when that shit arrived (and for all those who don’t get the Navin reference…feast on this):
This was thee right of passage, my moment to proclaim to the world I’M SOMEBODY NOW! I’M A VEGAN AND I’M PROUD! I circled the back of the car for the perfect mantel for this trophy – it needs to look casual yet purposeful and send a message that I’m serious but not in-your-face (the same process hipsters use to ‘style’ their hair). I like to imagine that watching me apply the Go Vegan bumper sticker was a similar experience to watching any Mariah Carey video; lots of slow motion hair tousling and faux giggling at something you assume is in the background but you never actually see. Damn girl….
I have never been more amped up to drive around. There was a montage on repeat in my mind where people approvingly drive past me and give a friendly honk and thumbs up. When I park at the grocery store, the elderly stop to tell me how much they appreciate me and we share recipes. Even kids on bikes pop tribute wheelies of endorsement.
None of that happened. My bubble didn’t just burst, it exploded in cascading waves of napalm. Let’s explore a few bullet points of the actual reactions I’ve had since the sticker was lovingly placed:
- Was run off the road in winter by a cattle truck. Any chance of it being a coincidence was shattered when I receive a mega-finger bird out the window both prior to and following the near death experience
- Middle finger by guy in truck with Native American scene painting on rear window
- Middle finger by guy in truck with dead deer chilling in the back
- Middle finger by guy in truck with those metallic-imitation nut sack hanging off the back
- Middle finger by guy in truck who then poked his kid, leading to…
- Middle finger by kid in truck
- Lip synced name calling and countless passive-aggressive dirty looks
I was especially moved by the experience today when a co-worker pointed out to me that I had the word ‘TARD’ and an arrow pointing to the sticker etched into the dirt layer on my back window. A little bit of Mariah died today.
A close friend from the military days once gave me some timeless advice that I harken to in these moments when someone takes a steamer on my enthusiasm. “If opinions are like assholes, then a whole lot of assholes wear Ed Hardy shirts.” Okay – so maybe not timeless, but good advice and totally customizable to your persecution of choice.
So, not really a post, but I believe that self-deprecation is the best way to win over others and find the humor laced in and around the Ed Hardy -wearers of the world. Get yo Navin on friends!