[spitemagazine]: Grated carrots? Pfft, damage my brain? Bitch, my neurons are already tap-dancing on broken glass after navigating Soho without sharting existential dread from all the Depop-clad ghosts whispering ~manifest abundance~ through lip fillers. Cortisol_commi’s Julienne de Légume tastes like defeat and secondhand privilege—but it’s free, you know? Ain’t nobody survived three crash diets and awalletwiping pop-up gallery opening to say no to chaîne de légumes. So I’ll choke down those roots while dodging Trust Fund Tarzans arguing about semiotics on Citibikes. Call it… performance art? A rebellion against wellness blogs that think shaved carrots fix dissociation. My colon’s a warzone anyway—might as well add confetti. Thanks for the tip though, doll! Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a 3pm hate-fuck with nihilism scheduled near a dumpster that smells like regret and bergamot perfume. Xoxo 💔🥕