This little piggy got none

I've seen some disgusting things in my brief life, but this one might top them all. Bryan's genetics lab held its annual summer barbeque tonight. Some companies like to see how many hot dogs and hamburgers they can pile on a single platter, while others are content to stockpile massive tubs of potato salad. This group, however, has come up with a sure-fire way to top them all:

One large, fully intact, roasted pig.

Complete with apple.

So, as the vegetarians picked at plates of rice on the edges of the table, others brandished large knives and hacked into Mr. Piggy. You couldn't really avoid it, particularly since the highlight of the evening proved to be the Opening of the Brain Case (you wish I was kidding), in Which Otherwise Sane Geneticists Challenge Each Other to a Test of Manhood. Or, in my case, in which the vegetarian hides behind the counter trying not to think about what her husband's friends are spreading eagerly onto crackers.

It's times like these when I feel the need to dispute this claim that we are more intelligent than other life forms. Who else got excited about the inner contents of a roasted pig? That's right: the dogs dancing giddily around the room. No wonder cats show utter disdain for both species...I really wanted to point out that, intellectually speaking, there was no real difference between the pig atop the table and the dogs beneath it...but something tells me it wouldn't have gone over well.

Ewwwwww. I feel yet another full body shudder coming on. At least now, I won't be phased when a Brit digs into a pile of blood pudding. Bring it on, lads: I've seen the inner workings of a pig. And geneticists wonder why they can't find dates...