What Your Breakfast Order Says About You, NYC Edition
A Western omelette from a bodega served in a Styrofoam tray: You are a nihilist and people should actually be afraid of you.
A Western omelette from a bodega served in a Styrofoam tray: You are a nihilist and people should actually be afraid of you.
Sure, you could drive to pick up some $20 mix of ingredients haphazardly thrown into a flimsy bowl by a hungover college sophomore.
Obviously, not eating tacos isn’t an option, so here’s some helpful ways to hide your undignified devouring.
It has been a long week, and now it’s [FRIDAY / SATURDAY]. I’ve finished my [BREAKFAST / LUNCH / DINNER].
I’m really excited to get to know you better! Where do you live? What are your hobbies? What are you eating right now?
Customer service is, as before, abysmal. It requires at least three begs, a yip, and an emphatic paw stomp to get any attention from the staff.
She rolls into my office like one of those rotating hot dogs at 7-11. You know the ones, plastic-y but intriguing.
Not enough soda // A side dish that inexplicably calls for three sticks of cream cheese
I matched the microwave, we were like cute twins. During dinner parties, people would say, "Wow, love the matching appliance set."
I walked on and on, finally reaching the end of the line alongside Route 276 just outside King of Prussia, Pennsylvania.
How is it that my morning routine is simultaneously killing me while also helping me barely cling to dear life?
It will be a chance to network over a sweet treat with other gladiators who, in a few days, will try to clobber the life out of you.