I love to go for lunch.
I will go for lunch anwhere. With anyone. I have absolutely no stipulations. Except that you are free between 11:30 and 1:30.
Committed genocide? Stole an old lady's life savings? Talk in the theatre? Pish posh! Those are small things! I can overlook a few small flaws. As long as you agree you are in the mood for sushi.
It is impossible to do lunch properly in less than an hour and a half. If I haven't seen you in a while, punch the meter for two hours. Which is why lunch whores avoid work eaters. Those slaves to the clock that ruin EVERY lunch by looking at their watch, moaning about how long it takes to get their food, and the ultimate mood killer; they can not, CAN'T possibly, perish the thought, cross their heart hope to die, stay out longer than an hour. An hour! Because, damn it, either the office Nazi times them from the minute they put on their coats or they turn into pumpkins. Or on rare occassions, both.
1 comment:
You are totally a lunch whore! On my days off I love being a lunch whore. Heaven forbid I can even be a lunch lush! I actually like being both.
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