I'm so fucking sick of onions ruining food and people just letting them get away with it. Onions give me the creeps, they really do. Nasty tasting, foul smelling, ruining every day of my life. These fuckers are in everything. Everything. I'll order a salad sans onions. I'm very, very allergic to onions, I say. The waitress is skeptical, but fuck her. I'm all alone in the world against an unstoppable force that is inexplicably popular. When I get my salad it's covered, smothered, in circles of white tyranny. I know she did it on purpose, fucking bitch. I'm all alone in the world. So what happens next is I sigh loudly and my table mates say, "Just take them off."
Just take them off? Did you ever notice how even if you take an onion off your sandwich you can still taste it? How is that even normal? You know what other kinds of tastes linger long? Poison. Venom. Gasoline. Not to mention the stench an onion leaves on your fingers long after you touched it. I touched an onion once and my fingers still smelled like it a week later. I kept washing my hands, over and over and over. Nothing would get the disgusting aroma off my fingers. I fucking hate onions so, so much.
The only time it was convenient to hate onions was when I had anorexia. Since everything had onions in it, I had a ready-made excuse to not eat anything. "Oh wow. That chicken salad looks fabulous. It's a shame it has onions in it or I would totally devour a whole bowl of it. Honest." And I'd manage to look really disappointed about this. And then my mom got wise and started making me my own special portions of food. Like, I'd go over there and use my line and she'd say, "Oh Gwen, I made this one especially for you. There aren't any onions in it." Shit. Well played, mom, well played. You know how much pressure it puts on a girl when somebody makes food especially for her? Fresh out of excuses, I'd have to eat it and purge afterward. See how onions ruin lives?
You know what makes we want to just give up on existing? When I make something delicious, like macaroni and cheese, without onions and someone says, "You know what would have been great in this? Onions." I swear to Jesus, there has to have been some kind of Voo Doo brainwashing trickery going on when the taste buds of our human ancestors were forming. Why else would something that actually makes us cry be so fucking insidiously popular? That should throw up a red flag, when our automatic response to a "food" item is tears, don't you think? And how wicked is it that when we take a knife to these monsters, we're the ones that end up weeping? That's pure evil, my friends.
Onions have pulled the wool over everybody's eyes. For some reason, people love them. Chopped raw, fried, in rings, caramelized, bloomed into some kind of mutant flower. But people love a lot of things that I don't understand, that I find to be painful and/or repugnant. Dancing with The Stars. Twilight. Bumper Stickers. Miley Cyrus. Getting fucked in the ass. Spelling words wrong. Square Dancing. Crocs. Desperate Housewives. I'm getting used to hating things that everybody loves. In fact, sometimes I hate something just because everybody loves it. I stand alone. Anyway, onions are assholes. And deep down inside you know I'm right.
Image Credit: Cathlooi
Image Credit: Laura.Bell