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The Veggie Parade, Seriously

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And we are up! It’s in the 70’s outside again. Don’t you just love how the weather out here just makes you beg for it?

Anyway, San Francisco is having something called Bay to Breakers, which from my understanding is a naked parade, and it appears that New York wants to compete with its west coastian peer now that its all nice out by offering its own parade. Oh yes, this weekend, go check out the Veggie Day Parade (evermore proof that everything has a parade) going on in the West Village. Participants of the parade are encouraged to dress up like vegetables. What? You don’t want to? You don’t like vegetables? You got a problem with some freakin’ leafy organisms?! You got a problem with Vegetable PRIDE, which is only about being an animal-rights activist, being an environmentalist, thinking about world hunger, and standing up for your own health. The funny thing is, its probably a bunch of California defects that are going anyway.

According to their site (evermore proof that everything under the sun has a site these days), the procession begins at Noon in the Olde Meat District (where 9th Avenue and Gansevoort Street intersect), and culminates in all its leafy glory in Union Square Park (north end, across the street from Barnes & Noble). There, parade marchers will be greeted by 40 exhibitors and cartloads of FREE vegan food. Not a bad deal.

So, the question I am kind of left with is – would it be demonstrative of my support if I threw a vegetable at the Veggie Parade?

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Rebecca E. - The Centimentalist

Rebecca E. - The Centimentalist

What does Rebecca bring to the table? Fanciful eye twinkles and a plastic tablecloth, that's what. Her parents are Russian, but she was born in Massachusetts and thus maintains her innocence, though she admittedly prefers blintzes and beet salad to hamburgers. When she spent a year in Japan as a kid she experienced the first of many dips on her normalcy development chart. She came back to the States like the little wheelbarrow on the NYC Edition of Monopoly. Next, she moved to Atlanta where she hung with Jermaine Dupree in elevators. She got a B.A. outside Chicago, and after a two-year stint as a consultant, warmed up in Miami, picking up a water-resistant J.D. Now she is back in Manhattan, trying to collect evidence and moneybags all over the board, henceforth as the cannon piece.