Hippies, makeup, and cow revenge

(While this is apparently a scene from the movie "Hippie Hippie Shake," I choose to interpret it more literally as, "Run from the hippies! Ahhhh!")

Not long after I moved to Salt Lake, I went to the grocery store on a normal, average grocery run.

(Average for me means that I ran out of York Peppermint Patties, but anyway...) 

Since I was out of foundation (as in, makeup) and shampoo, I found myself standing in front of a wall of Pantene and L'Oreal, trying to make decisions. While I compared prices and ounces, a hippie turned the corner and began meandering toward me. He was scrawny, and scruffy, and — more bizarrely — hugging a bottle of Sprite. 

"Do you know where to find ingredients on makeup?" he asked. 

I thought it was an innocent question — maybe he was buying makeup for his wife who was allergic to something. So I answered accordingly.

"No, I don't. Sorry."

It was then that I discovered: When you engage hippies in conversation, you find out that they're not so innocent.

Remember that. Log it away. Learn from my mistakes.

"Did you know that most makeup brands have animal fat in them?" he demanded, grinning like a monkey. I could tell he was excited to find someone to talk to. 

"No, I didn't know that," I said, feeling the situation spiraling into weirdness.

"Yeah," he said, bouncing on his toes in glee. "Animal fat. They put animal fat in there. So when you're putting on makeup you're actually putting animal fat all over your face."

"That's interesting," I said, wondering what to do. 

Even though I clearly wasn't worried about smearing animal fat on my skin, the poor man kept talking. Since I've never been good at telling people to get lost, I finally decided just to ignore him. In choosing between browsing shampoos and getting a lecture from a Sprite-hugging hippie, it was no contest.

Him: "If you went to a Whole Foods store, you could probably find makeup that doesn't have animal fat in it."

Me: "Mmm hmmm. That's fascinating."

Him: "If you watch (some documentary) you'll never want to eat meat again."

Me: "Yep, I'm sure." 

He and I went on like this for some time before he admitted that I wasn't subscribing to his brand of nuttism.

And so, my poor hippie left, probably crying internally that he had failed to convince me of the error of my ways. It's better that he didn't know what I was REALLY thinking while he was talking:

Him: "If you watch (some documentary) you'll never want to eat meat again."

Me: "Not eat meat?! Please. Meat is delicious!"

Him: "The way they treat the animals at butcher shops, it's just disgusting!"

Me: "Luckily my grandparents butcher their own cows locally. That means my family has a whole fridge full of yummy meat!"

Him: "They put animal fat in makeup. So when you're putting on makeup you're actually putting animal fat all over your face."

Me: "If the animals are dead, they're not using it!"

(Side note: Aren't hippies supposed to be all about using what is found in nature? Animal fat on my face? At least it's natural!)

The lessons in all of this are simple:

1. Never engage a hippie in conversation. Their passion is admirable — as long as it's directed at someone else...

2. Never try to convince a girl that she shouldn't eat cows when she grew up herding them. Herding cows taught me that cows are not cute and docile — they are ugly, smelly, and stupid. If you've ever herded cows, you'll understand the vindictive pleasure I get out of eating hamburger. There's something about chasing cows through fields, stepping in cow pies, getting eaten alive by mosquitoes, and trying to stop cows from running through fences or falling into rivers that changes your mental state. It's like I take revenge on all those stupid cows every time I go to McDonald's.

And revenge is sweet.

And tasty.

Things like the hippie experience happen to me all the time. Going to the grocery store is always a gamble because I never know who will accost me next. The only conclusion to this is that I must look like a sucker. 

Well...

I'll have to work on that.