They’re everywhere. They’re all over Facebook, they’re all over Twitter, they’re all over Pinterest. They’re texting their mushroom and goat cheese manicotti at the table next to yours, they’re trying to show you their Tabouli salad with ginger vinagrette in the passenger seat while you’re driving in heavy traffic on the Interstate, they’re waving their Samsung Galaxy smartphone with its Pokemon motif wallpaper in your face demanding you look at the Beef Wellington or curried chicken with beet juice they had last night whose remains are now now probably being further broken down into their elements in the septic system.
Food pictures. They’re the new “this is me at a party with my cool friends” pictures. The cooler looking the food, the cooler people who post food photos think they are.
It’s an insidious illness, this obsession with showing off the edible substance you put in your mouth so your body can survive. Now I’m doing it. At least tonight I am. Because tonight I had the best pizza I’ve ever had outside of New York City. One slice is as big as an entire pizza, big and oozing with cheese and tomato and dripping amber colored grease down your chin and onto your new Gap T-shirt and down your wrists into your sleeves. And it was effing delicious. It’s from a pizzeria called Four Brothers and they really are four brothers who run the place and they’re from Brooklyn. That explains why it’s so good–and totally justifies my being an obnoxious, annoying “look what I just ate” jackass. That’s my photo of it up there.