It’s impressive when you walk around mid-town Manhattan on weekdays how many awesome lunch deals you find. Like sit down for a three-course meal for under 10 bucks. Ironic, seeing as how most people worried about lunch money probably can’t stroll out for a two-hour meal. They’re apparently meant for very frugal big dawgs. But now, I too can take advantage of these, even if it means eating alone. I came across an all-you-can-eat Indian buffet today for $7.95. I sat down determined to get my money’s worth and didn’t leave until an hour and a half later. I’d talk on the phone in between servings to give my stomach a quick moment to catch its breath. I may have stomach pains for a few more hours but goddamn it, it was worth it. Now I know the joys of being a mid-town big dawg. My next task: figure out what ever happened to The Sizzler.
One of the very (very) few things I miss about work is sitting in meetings when someone says something truly retarded. That kind of statement where everyone is quiet for a few seconds (I’m giggling like a school girl into my notebook) until someone senior to the retard steps in. That senior person will either ignore the comment or politely try and get it to make sense. The same way teachers had to make sense of dumbass answers in elementary school. I used to enjoy those situations back then too. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had my share of bombs in meetings. Big ones, where all you hear are crickets and my boss grinding his teeth. I found my bombs just as entertaining as those of others. That must have been a sign of not caring or something.
