Demolicious

I've noticed that there are at least two glaring typographical errors in my response to my only comment to date on this thing, and that bugs me. I am a selective perfectionist, and I can't figure out how to edit my responses to comments, so grrr! I say. The one that rattles my chain the most is my obvious omission of a question mark at the end of a sentence that clearly is meant to be a query. This drives me particularly crazy because of the irony. It's always the irony. You see, I have this speech related quirk that causes many of my intended declaritive statements to sound interrogative. There's this sort of inflection that comes out from time to time that makes me sound like I'm asking a question when I'm not, and it's embarrassing. I like to think that it's a product of my Southern upbringing and not some mark of insecurity that I'm carrying around with me, although I suspect that my confidence may be a little misguided. I've been known to apologize for existing, so I've kind of shot myself in the foot when it comes to making any lofty claims about my "high self esteem." I digress.
I will get to whatever it is that I want to talk about at some point or another, but first I want to mention meat. Meat. I went through a long spell of time proudly reffering to myself as a "vegetarian." I consumed no meat at all, and I was happy. Recently, I've started to consume animal flesh again, and I've been happy. I didn't eat meat today, and I had a good day, so I'm guessing that my consumption of flesh is in no way directly affiliated with my contentment level . . . Nor, I've come to understand, is abstinence from carnage. I may very well eat meat tommorow. I may not. I may once again go for years without eating meat, but I will never again call myself a "vegetarian." Whether I eschew flesh or not, I will eschew labels. I like options, so consider me "undeclared" in terms of dietary camps from here on out.
Okay, so I've decided that I like the term, "demolicious." I don't care if my ass is too small to carry off anything that ends in "licious." Of course, my dream of being a demolition expert experienced a quick demise. I would love to bring violent destruction down upon the strip malls and other architectural atrocities of the world, but those are unfortunately the things being built, so there's not a lot of demand for their obliteration. Pity. I could have been a contender. I'm still very much in love with those beautiful structures that are being demolished all too quickly. Even these fading, crumbling husks in Detroit . . . Yeah. I love 'em too. I wouldn't touch a brick in their trembling facades. However, as I said, I would still love to demolish a strip mall or two if such an opportunity ever surfaces. I'm also very much in favor of steamrolling over idols, ideals, preconceived notions, and stupid, knee-jerk reactions. So, destructo-girl still has her fodder. She is content for now, or she would be . . . If someone would just tell her where they keep the good explosives.