Hey there, you sorry excuses for fucking cooks! Today's fury-filled recipe is dedicated to all you tree-hugging, kale-munching, self-righteous vegetarians out there. Oh, how I love to torment you with my meaty creations, but today, I'll pretend to be somewhat compassionate and cater to your insufferable dietary choices with this Vegetarian Buddha Bowl.

Let me take a moment to unleash my fury on all the fucking "healthy" bloggers out there. They pretend to have reached some sort of culinary enlightenment when all they do is make me want to stab myself in the eye with a goddamn carrot peeler. They bombard us with their meticulously curated Instagram pictures, boasting about their radiant complexions and how their magical unicorn smoothies cured them of every damn disease known to man. Well, fuck you! Cooking is about passion, flavor, and making food that actually tastes fucking good. So, gather 'round, you blessed disciples of vegetable righteousness, as I lay down the law of the Vegetarian Buddha Bowl.

• 1 cup of quinoa that you can't fucking pronounce
• 1 head of broccoli - the tree-like abomination that'll ruin your fucking day
• 1 sweet potato, cut into damn cubes
• 1 avocado that costs a kidney, yet somehow became worthy of your worship
• 1 can of chickpeas - little balls of mediocrity that try to trick you into thinking they're filling
• 1 carrot, finely shredded because no one gives a shit about carrots
• A handful of kale - the Mother Teresa of leafy greens, making you feel morally superior
• A tiny-ass lemon to add some zing to your miserable existence
• A splash of olive oil because otherwise, everything will taste like sadness
• A pinch of salt and pepper - the only acceptable seasoning for your sanctimonious ass

Now, my dear misinformed health gurus, let me guide you through the tedious process of assembling this visually appealing bowl of dietary regret.

1. Cook the quinoa as if your life depended on it. You'll need it for sustenance after realizing how joyless this fucking bowl is.
2. Toss the broccoli florets with some olive oil, salt, and pepper, then roast those green fuckers in the fiery depths of a preheated oven at 400°F (200°C) for about 20 minutes. Make sure they char a bit because what is life without a little burnt bitterness?
3. While the broccoli is meeting its fiery demise, take your cubed sweet potato and roast those orange bastards alongside the crucified broccoli until they're tender and slightly caramelized. This will give your bowl a glimmer of hope.
4. Meanwhile, smear half of the avocado on your face like a true disciple of the avocadomask. You'll feel one with nature or some hippie shit like that.
5. Show some effort by rinsing and draining the chickpeas because apparently, they can't go from a can straight into this monstrosity you're creating. Sprinkle them with salt and pepper to remind yourself that moderation in life is simply for the weak.
6. If you haven't puked from self-loathing yet, go ahead and massage that shredded carrot with some lemon juice. Making love to carrots is completely normal in your world.
7. Finish assembling your bowl by arranging quinoa, kale, broccoli, sweet potato, chickpeas, and carrot in a visually pleasing manner. Remember, presentation is everything... or at least, that's what they say. Drown the whole thing in the remaining half of the avocado because, well, you're fucking obsessed with that shit.

What the hell are you waiting for, whining little shits? Get off your judgmental high horse and start making this Vegetarian Buddha Bowl that'll leave you pondering the meaninglessness of existence! Don't forget to take a picture, filter the hell out of it, and post it on every social media platform like the insufferable human being you are.