Lurkers and Gulchers

There are some Lurkers out there of the vegan sense...step up bitches!! I know you're out there!!! This is the weekend of participation not observation!!!!!

Holla with some love, YO!!

Feels So Good

Last night, TAFKALC joined us following a wine and cheese tasting she had been working for her part time gig. Upon arrival she regaled us with tales of cheese so good as to be orgasm-inducing.

This further reinforced my thoughts on the eroticism of food. No two things can drive people to the depths of madness or the heights of pleasure quite like food and sex. The consumption of the two can and often does reduce humans to the most primal of creatures. We even use the same language to discuss eating (ahem) and sex.

The interplay between food and sex has been brought to the screen countless times, the most notable of which is probably the scene from 9 ½ Weeks, which, most likely, led many a misguided couple to find out how truly hard it is to clean up honey. But, the list of food as foreplay in film is a long one. Who can forget Ali Larter’s whipped cream bikini in Varsity Blues, or Phoebe Cates teaching Jennifer Jason Leigh the art of a blow job with a carrot in Fast Times at Ridgemont High?

(This was going to be a much longer post, but I got home too late last night, and woke up too late this morning to really give this post its due)

So, let’s talk about sex. And food. Food and sex? Any tales of the misguided use of whipped cream in bed, only to find that when dairy products mix with hot, sweaty flesh the result is basically sour milk? (or has that only happened to me?) Alternatively, we could discuss the lunchtime quickie, or “nooner,” if you will. “What’s for lunch?” she asked with a wink, and a knowing look…

TANSTAAFL

TANSTAAFL = "there ain't no such thing as a free lunch."

it means that you cannot get something for nothing. this saying has been referenced everywhere from novels to physics theorems. and now it's time to discuss it on this blog. could OWFL develop a lunch theoreum that could challenge the likes of milton friedman??? deep thoughts...

but as a side note, do you really feel that this saying is true? please tell us all about the best free lunch (or dinner, or breakfast even) you've ever eaten and why.

and also, don't forget to tell us WFL today????

Monday, Monday

Can anyone honestly tell me that they have woken up on a Monday (not on vacation) and had a smile on their face? What is it about Monday's that cause us to get the Sunday evening Blues? Why do Monday's suck? What is it about Monday's that cause us to state things like, "on Monday I'm going to start eating healthy" or "on Monday I'll start going to the gym"? Is there a cure for the Monday blues?

Sorry for this depressing post. It's miserable in NY this morning and today I am starting a detox program to rid my body of all toxins, and hopefully jump start a healthy new me (and to bring my blood pressure and cholestorol down). I feel as though the gloomy weather is a precursor to what the next few days hold for me if I can maintain the will power and finish this program. Started at the gym at 6:00 a.m. Got to the office for a glass of hot water and the juice of a lemon. Ate a banana. Am only allowed to drink water (at least 10 glasses) and eat a few pieces of fruit today. Have to cut out red meat, wheat, dairy, shellfish, caffeine, chocoloate, alcohol and smokes (yes basically anything that is good). Supposed to do this for 3 days but I'm starting with Baby Steps and shooting for 2 days as I have a big dinner on Wednesday night to attend in San Francisco.

Has anyone else ever tried to detox? Any good recipes or plans to share? Could this healthy post possibly get positive responses from this lunch crazed crowd lead by the unhealthy czar Josephus? Talk healthy to me WFLers? And if you can't, well...just go ahead and tell me WFL and I'll live vicariously through you for the next few days.

Weekending...

I came across this article tonight while googling.

Excerpt below:

"MILLIONS of Britons are suffering from a new workplace disorder - repetitive sandwich syndrome.
In the country that invented the sandwich, nearly 350 years ago, a survey has found that nearly one in two of us is sick of the same old fillings.
Yet, more than half of us admit we never bother to try anything new."

Apparently they need OWFL in the British Isles.

Anybody out there?

Hunged D'over

Listen.....I went out and got shit canned last night. Came home and I know my ass ate something. For some reason, we lose all sense of time and think "hey, it's 2 am, it's time for LUNCH!!" Now, we also take these careless eating practices into the next day, picking up McDonalds or that meatball sandwich that you SWORE you'd never eat again for lunch. We all do it! Shit, I know most of you are going to do it tonight!!! So, what kind of crap do you feed your drunk ass and why can't we just just have a nice salad and a V8? fuck, i'm already late for work so deal!

So while you're trying to trace those faded memories of misplaced lunches gone wrong, tell us........WFL???!!!????

On the Side

I worked for many years as a waitress and a bartender and I have also eaten out countless more times, and it has never ceased to amaze me the lengths people will go to customize their orders. Salad dressing on the side is so common as to practically not be a special order, but I remember many people specifying how the sauteed mushrooms should be cooked or giving other very specific directions on the food preparation.

I don't like raw tomatoes but I will almost never order my sandwich or salad sans tomatoes because I can easily pick them off and would rather just spare the waiter or waitress the hassle of just one more custom order. Now if the ingredient of offense in question will taint the whole dish or can not be easily removed, then I will make the specific request. Crumbled blue cheese in a cobb salad, anchovies on a greek salad or some kind of sauce I find distasteful are good examples of what I mean. In general however, I find the extensive special ordering to be the work of primadonnas and those who have never worked in the service industry.

Surely my fellow lunchers have experienced this and I am certain many of you will also have strong opinions on the matter. How much will you special order? And what is your take on others who do?

And more importantly, what is for lunch today?

I See Dead People In My Grilled Cheese....

Ok…no I don’t, but a woman in Miami saw the Virgin Mary in her grilled cheese and actually auctioned it off on E-bay for $28,000. Another woman just a couple of months ago saw an image of Mary on a terra blue potato chip that she was about to eat on a flight bound to NY. And a man in WV found a funyun under his car seat in the shape of Mary holding baby Jesus, it was reported to have a bid of $609 on e-bay. The Naylor family in St.Paul cashed in over $10,000 for a honey mustard Rold Gold pretzel shaped like the Ms. Mary herself as well.

So fellow WFL’ers have you ever taken the time to see if the Virgin Mary has appeared to you in your tomato soup? Was that really just sauerkraut on your Reuben, or was it the Madonna coming to offer you a saving grace?

As you eat your lunch today, take a good look at your ham sammie or the bag of frito lays you may be noshing on. Let us know if the Virgin Mary makes a cameo during your lunch hour and what food are you eating that may have inspired her to do so! Or give us reports on past sightings of iconic images in a slice of cold pizza or hidden in your kung pao!

Whatever you are eating today ... its not as bad as hospital food

This is a picture of Japanese hospital food. This looks better than my lunch for the last week (remember its passover). How is this fair at all?

So I'm moving to Japan when I get older so I can at least enjoy my hospital lunches.

Sorry for the late posting today but we had some health issues with some family members that put into perspective the Quality of Life that diminishs once you hit a hospital. Its not that you're not already pretty down and unhappy because you are sick/hurt, but then American hospitals add insult to this by serving people gruel and paste that tastes like liver and onions (liver and onions can be good but the paste thing just isn't working for anyone).

Considering you're paying the staff and hospital more for an hour than Donald Trump does his latest "wife", why can't you get a good bit of knosh to sooth the pain?

Hatertot's Easter Post

4/17 - As the jade is unable to post today please continue to enjoy Hatertot's Easter post. Tell us about your Easter weekend thoughts and don't forget to tell us, of course, WFL? - Josephus


"We hear of the Easter Bunny who comes each Easter Day before sunrise to bring eggs for boys and girls, so we think there is only one. But this is not so. There are really five Easter Bunnies, and they must be the five kindest, and swiftest, and wisest bunnies in the whole wide world, because between sunset on Easter Eve and dawn on Easter Morning they do more work than most rabbits do in whole year."

Happy Easter, WFLers!

Easter is my favorite holiday (after My Birthday and the Fourth of July – but it’s my favorite of the Big Three – not hard since I hate the other two, but I legitimately love me some Easter) – it’s got the best weather, the prettiest colors, the cutest mascots, and the best Jesus story. It’s also got Lent, and Mardi Gras preceding it, which I also love because there isn’t anything I like more than some good old-fashioned self-deprivation.

“When one of the Easter Bunnies grows old and can no longer run fast, the old, wise, and kind Grandfather Bunny who lives at the Palace of Easter Eggs calls the bunnies together from the whole world to select the very best one to take the place.”

Growing up in the HaterTot household, Easter also had the best food of all the holidays. At least to my not-all-that-fond-of-turkey mind. We were not a ham family – as I like ham even less than I like turkey, and luckily MomsHaterTot was equally as anti-PigAss. So, it came to pass that we were a lamb family. Taught by my CrazyAunt, my mom prepared a fresh leg of lamb (chosen from my dad’s friend’s farm, while it was still attached to a wee little lamb-lette, running and playing, all the while not knowing its delicious fate – I couldn’t participate in this part of the holiday, as it would have made me very sad, and knowing my family, we’d have had a pet lamb, to go along with the duck, rabbits and dog) Anyhoo, once the leg was in our possession, it was marinated for days and rubbed with delicious fresh herbs, scored and inserted with whole garlic cloves and left to soak up all the flavor. Now, while this was happening, my Dad’s job was to dig the pit. Dad went out back and dug a hole in the yard, where the fire would be built and the lamb put on the spit over top.

“One day a little country girl bunny with a brown skin and a little cotton-ball tail said, ‘Some day I shall grow up to be an Easter Bunny: -- you wait and see!’ Then all of the big white bunnies who lived in fine houses, and the jack Rabbits with long legs who can run so fast, laughed at the little Cottontail and told her to go back to the country and eat a carrot. But she said, ‘Wait and see!’”

In the days and weeks leading up to Easter, MammaHT and I would always shop for Easter outfits. This never really got old, as shopping for outfits is always fun – though, by high school, I was a bitch and didn’t like it as much, as it meant spending time with the fam, which was soooo… not on my Too Cool For School agenda. But it was the best time of the year when I was a little girl, because it was the only time that my mom would allow me to get “frou frou” things in purple and pink – which were strictly verboten the rest of the year. (my mom hated girly shit and did her best to beat my tendencies to gravitate toward things that were pink and purple and sparkly out of me) For Easter though, she indulged me (though desperately tried to steer me toward yellows and greens and blues – sometimes she was successful). One year in particular, I think I was probably three, the Easter spirit even netted me the Best Bikini Ever, where the whole top half was a duckie. Yes kids, there was a time when just one duckie shaped piece of cloth covered the entirety of my boobage. Anyway, I digress…

“The little girl Cottontail grew up to be a young lady Cottontail. And by and by she had a husband and then one day, much to her surprise there were twenty-one Cottontail babies to take care of. “

We also decorated the house for Easter (as my mom did for the other, inferior holidays, though I tried to only participate in Easter decorating) – we even had an Easter Tree, decorated with Easter ornaments, under which we put Easter gifts. MomsHT would make Easter cookies and Easter candy, and the fun would culminate on Good Friday, when, after spending the day in church saying the Stations of the Cross and confession (the Priest used to tell me that I had to be sure not to sin on Saturday, otherwise I couldn’t have Communion at church Easter morning), we’d come home (after going to at least one other church to pick up pierogies, and the fire hall, to pick up fish) and dye eggs. My mom always bought whatever newfangled crazy egg dying/decorating kits were available that year, in addition to the regular old Paas kit. We would then dye every egg in the house – hardboiled or not (which used to piss my dad off, when one of the raw ones would slip into his lunch bag, because he thought it to be hard boiled, and then he’d crack open a raw egg at the station, and make a mess. Secretly though, that always made me laugh, even though I never got to witness it in person).

“Then one day when the little rabbits were half grown up, she heard a great talk among the woods rabbits, and when she asked what it was about, they said, ‘Haven’t you heard? One of the five Easter Bunnies has grown too slow, and we are all going to the Palace of Easter Eggs to see Old Grandfather pick out a new one to take his place.’”

In addition to the lamb, we had a small ham for my dad and grandmother, though Dad really only wanted it to have ham sandwiches, ham and scalloped potatoes, ham and cabbage and other ham-based meals for the rest of the week. I ignored the ham, but rather focused on the side dishes. There was sour-cream and swiss cheese potato cake, roasted asparagus, sweet potatoes, Peeps salad, some kind of weird white jell-o salad, always a relish tray (Easter’s focused on olives and cheeses, chosen to compliment the lamb). For dessert, in addition to the Easter cookies and candies, there was a Fruit Ribbon cake, which was a four-layer white cake, with “ribbons” of fruit filling in between each (I got to pick which fruits I wanted – I usually chose lemon curd, strawberries and left the third to my dad, who would always pick raspberry, except for the one year he fucked up and chose orange marmalade – that was horrible). MomsHT, crafty bitch that she was, would go out to the yard/garden and select violets, or other edible flowers, which she would candy to decorate the cake, which was iced in whipped cream frosting. (I have the recipe for this cake, but don’t look for it at HH@BB anytime soon – that shit is a pain in the ass)

“Then [Grandfather’s] kind old eyes looked everywhere and at last they rested on Little Cottontail Mother where she stood with her children around her. And he called her to come right up to the Palace steps. So she took her twenty-one children and went up and stood before him.”

When I was very little, I left the Easter Bunny a plate of carrots and milk and a hard boiled egg, that I’d made specially for him, with his name on it. We’d wake up early, and I’d eat candy and search for the eggs that we’d dyed and that the Bunny had so craftily hidden in the night. Then my mom and I would put on our Easter dresses and go to church, which was always really weird, because my church would do things like install a fountain or reenact the scene where the women open the tomb to find it empty. Hopped up on all the candy as I was, I found it very difficult to sit still, and it was on one Easter, that I moved around so much, I fell off the end of the pew and into the aisle, which got me a spanking in the car out in the parking lot.

“Then the old, kind, wise Grandfather said, ‘You have proved yourself to be not only wise, and kind, and swift, but also very clever. Come to the Palace tomorrow afternoon, for that is Easter Eve, and you shall be my fifth Easter Bunny.”’

After we got home from church, we’d eat Easter bread and more candy, and if it wasn’t too cold (this was after all Pittsburgh, where more than once, I had to wear snow boots with my pretty new Easter dress) we’d go outside and watch the lamb on the spit over the fire pit. It was during this time that I got to open my Easter presents, which ranged from my duck Quacker one year, to Libby the lop-eared show bunny another, to jewelry and trinkets and stuffed animals and toys.

“When she went close, she saw that he was holding in his hand the loveliest egg she had ever seen. It glittered like a diamond. ‘Peek through and see what you shall see,’ he said; so she peeked through the little hole in one end and she saw a beautiful scene with a sleigh, and a lake with people skating on the ice. And he said, ‘Because you have such a loving heart for children, I am going to give you the best but the hardest trip of all. Far off over two rivers and three mountains there is a great mountain peak. And in a little cottage on that peak is a little boy who has been ill for a while year, and who has been so brave that never once has he cried or complained. The mountain is so high that there is ice on the top, and it will be hard to climb, but if you get there you will give more happiness than any other Easter Bunny.”

My Grandparents would come over at some point in the day, Grandma always bringing delicious pickled eggs (pickled in beet brine, so that they were pink!) and I ran around cracking open all the hard boiled eggs for everyone, because I liked the idea of cracking eggs on peoples’ heads and having it not be messy. My Grandmother would always tell my mother, indignantly that in HER house growing up, they never ate lamb, and that she wouldn’t have any of it. She never tried it and never would, and was just sure it was terrible. My mother would, depending on her mood, ignore or, her tell her to fuck off. In later years, I stepped into the role of defending my mom against her unnecessary bitchiness and ignorance, which one year resulted in my grandmother literally flinging herself to the ground and rolling around and crying. That was an odd year.

“Down, down she went, and she crashed through a thicket of budding laurel, rolled across a pasture, and finally struck against the trunk of a great apple tree that was just getting ready to bloom for Easter. And there she lay, with the egg still safely clutched in her paw, but with a great pain in her leg.”

I always went home for Easter after I moved out. Except for the European Vacation years, where Easter was totally crazy. It was always a pain in the ass, because I’d inevitably need to be back at work or school on Monday, so after eating, I’d have to sit my now-surely-larger ass in the car for 4 hours, but I did so in a car filled with scrumptious Easter leftovers.

“And he smiled at her and he said, ‘You are not only wise, and kind, and swift, but you are also the bravest of all the bunnies. And I shall make you my very own Gold Shoe Easter Bunny.’ And he reached over and she saw for the first time that he was holding a tiny pair of gold shoes in his hand. And he bent down and put them on her feet. Suddenly all the pain left her leg, and she stood up and picked up the precious egg. Then, before she knew what was happening, she felt a sudden motion, and she found herself flying high in the air: over the pasture she flew, over the laurel, over the stones, until at last, when she landed, she looked back and she saw that one single jump had carried her halfway up the mountain. Then she jumped once again and there she was at the cottage door. Quickly she squeezed through the tiny crack that had been left open just in case the bunny did come all that way, and in the hand of the beautiful sleeping boy, she placed the egg.”

As most of you know, my Dad and I don’t really “do” holidays since my mom died, and I don’t go home except for Christmas. In past years, I’ve had wonderful Easters with my surrogate family here, including last year’s brunch organized by Mr. and Mrs. Jo, when the OWFL was but a twinkle in the Czar’s eye. This year though, it felt right to spend the day alone and doing nothing. While I felt a strong urge to hop in the car and join many of the other WFLers on their outdoor adventures this weekend, instead I was drawn to stay home and cook for myself and reminisce about Easters past.

“And the little house of Mother Cottontail can always be told now from the homes of all other bunnies. Because in a special place on the wall, on a very special hook, hangs a pair of very tiny little gold shoes.”

Today when I woke up at the luxurious time of 12:30pm (I was up rather late last night, though not out, just enjoying some quasi-alone time) I hopped to my fridge and pulled out one of the Diet Cokes I bought myself in anticipation of the end of my Lenten sacrifice. Then I called my dad to wish him a Happy Easter and set to cooking myself an omelet filled with gorgonzola cheese, vodka tomatoes, sun dried tomatoes, bacon and asparagus with a dollop of Daisy on the side, and reading The Country Bunny and the Little Gold Shoes, by Du Bose Heyward, as I do every Easter. Now, I think I’m going to go to the gym, after writing what I just ate.

So, what about all of you? How have you spent this Easter? Gorging on candy? Camping? Trips to Grandma’s? Feel free to share your Easter stories, past or present.

Happy Easter OWFL!

The Taxman Cometh

One, two, three, four... Hrmm! One, two, (one, two, three, four!)

Let me tell you how it will be;
There's one for you, nineteen for me.
'Cause I’m the taxman,
Yeah, I’m the taxman.

Should five per cent appear too small,
Be thankful I don't take it all.
'Cause I’m the taxman,
Yeah, I’m the taxman.

(if you drive a car, car;) - I’ll tax the street;
(if you try to sit, sit;) - I’ll tax your seat;
(if you get too cold, cold;) - I’ll tax the heat;
(if you take a walk, walk;) - I'll tax your feet.
Taxman!

'Cause I’m the taxman,
Yeah, I’m the taxman.

Don't ask me what I want it for, (ah-ah, mister Wilson)
If you don't want to pay some more. (ah-ah, mister heath)
'Cause I’m the taxman,
Yeah, I’m the taxman.

Now my advice for those who die, (taxman)
Declare the pennies on your eyes. (taxman)
'Cause I’m the taxman,
Yeah, I’m the taxman.

And you're working for no one but me.
Taxman!

We all know the taxman likes to take a bite out of your wallet. Among the most highly taxed items is food, specifically meals eaten or prepared in a restaurant. When you eat out, how much of your meal is going to the taxman v. the waiters, the chefs, the restaurant? In Arlington county, you pay 4% for prepared foods & beverages, plus 2% if sold by a restaurant - that's 6% before state involvement, which is 1.5%. Alexandria is a little better at 3% (again, before state taxes). Washington is by far the worst in the area, at 10% a meal. Maryland state tax is 5%. I don't think there are additional county taxes, but who cares, I hardly ever go there, anyway.
(Maybe I should take up smoking instead of snacking on a full-time basis: cigarette tax in arlington is only 30 cents a pack [1.5 cents a ciggie]; alexandria is 50 cents a pack [1.67 cents]; DC & Maryland is a buck a pack [5 cents ].)
Warning: Math nerdery ahead: At an average meal cost of $6 for a takeout meal, I (in Arlington) am paying 45 cents extra a meal. Averaging 4 lunches out a week, for 48 weeks a year = $86.40 that I could be putting towards better lunches at better places, or upping my average to five days a week. Damn taxman. DC peeps, it's worse! It works out to $115.20 a year! Or (from what it sounds like for a lot of DCers), 5 days a week = $144!!! The IRS is like the school bully of old, stealing your lunch money.

And, of course, it's not like I spent a chunk of last night in IRS hell trying to figure out these damn forms. Thank God we've got the extra couple of days. We're intelligent people here, right? It shouldn't take this long! Gah!!

Now I'm pissed off. So what would you do with your extra {$86.40, $115.20, $144.00} lunch money a year? And WTFFL, y'all??

first annual OWFL conference recap

as requested, here's a conference recap. unfortunately, due to my disgustingly busy schedule this week, it will be short. (and if i get fired for posting from work today, i'm blaming josephus and making him pay my rent until i get a new job) most of you received the photo slideshow via e-mail so you know the mayhem that ensued. but here are some quick highlights:

friday:
you saw HT's summary. much of that night consisted of drinking followed by booty shaking followed by more drinking. i walked home that night from chief ike's and ended up drunk dialing my dad. yeah, i am wierd like that.

the best photo of that night is here where we have mystery man in the back flashing us his mean gang sign...grrrr

[ORIGINAL PHOTO EDITED]

saturday:
great eats at parkway deli:

enough mayo on those tomatoes, jo?


and then of course, the glutton-fest eat/drink off at rosie-que's:

with tasty sangria

a revisit from the hamburger that is supposed to look like a hoagie

[EDITED]

and PEEP FIGHTS!

all in all, i know that everyone had the best time. thanks for those who hosted, cooked, flew out, and partied their ass off. i expect next year's conference to be even better than the first.

oh, and of course, how could i forget to ask you fine people: WFL?

This is Supposed to be the Conferece Recap

...but it isn't. I forgot to remind LC last night (since I did the last post we were supposed to do "together" - stop assigning us partner posts, please - we'd decided she'd do this one, since she's got the pics and all) and I know she's swamped at work, and probably won't even check in over here today. So anyway, no recap, because I just got up and don't have time to do it before I go to work.

Anyway, this is the post. Because I hate this stupid schedule. If TAFKALC wants to erase this and put up a recap - awesome. Otherwise, this stands. If I wanted homework, I'd be in school.

What's For Lunch?

Bizarro Lunchers

Maybe you know the kind...

"Hey Janice, wanna grab lunch with us?"
-No thanks, i'm going for a jog.
"Say what?!"

Or:

"Steve-O, let's hit that new thai place up the street?"
-Thanks man, but I don't eat lunch.
"Excuse me, you don't eat WHAT? WTF?"

Sometimes you never believe it until it happens to you, maybe i'm the only one who has ever observed this phenomena, but the two above examples are real life stories (names changed to protect their punk-ass identities) where I was just blown over by the response.

There took some getting to the bottom of things, but sure enough ol' Steve-O did NOT EAT LUNCH. He just didn't do it... Then there's the exercise freaks like Janice, who think that the whole Noon to One hour is best spent jogging/walking/swimming or whatever the hell else they do.

Whatever happened to lunch suckas?! How did you let that go from your life?

And I'm not talking about people who occassionally have to grab a late lunch (or skip one altogether-blasphemy!) while sitting at their desk because we know work-life can be hard sometimes. I'm talking about people who just don't think lunch is that important in their lives, the bizarro lunchers.

Perhaps when they go home at night they wear gloves on their feet and get their information from Fox News, but otherwise the only truly bizarre behavior these people exhibit is skipping the best meal of the day.

So if you know of someone who doesn't ask "What's for lunch?", but rather "What's lunch for?". Tell us about them, who are they and what do they do instead of lunch. And while you're at it, tell us what you really think about all them.

Some questions to consider:
Are the joggers better than us?
Do the non-eaters get their energy from the sun?
What else are these upside-down nut-cake people doing with that time?
Do the bizarro lunchers have their own blog?
If they're not eating lunch should they be allowed a "lunch break"?

The good thing about this topic is you can talk all the smack you want about these anti-lunchers, cuz you KNOW they're never gonna read this...

And of course...WFL?

What did your lunchbox say about you??

Our childhood lunchboxes were most likely what initially sparked our love of lunch. They also said a lot about our personalities...so what did your lunchbox say about you???





Dukes of Hazzard/Star Wars/Scooby Doo/A-Team/Rambo/Spiderman/Other Superhero (including, but not limited to Batman & Superman):
Type of person: You were probably one of those pre-ritalin ADD kids that the teachers hated. Favorite School Subject: Recess.
Lunch Then: You probably had a Milky Way, potato chips and a Hi-C in there.
Lunch Now: In fact thats probably what your eating right now.




Barbie/Any of the Disney Princeses/My Little Pony/Holly Hobbie:
Type of Person: You were a girly-girl. Sleep-overs were your thing, and you knew how to keep the teachers wrapped around your little finger. Your scunchy always matched your frilly socks.
Favorite School Subject: All of it, you always had your homework done on time.
Lunch Then: Salad, dressing on the side, no cheese, hold the onions, and Diet Coke.
Lunch Now: Salad, dressing on the side, no cheese, hold the onions...and Diet Coke.


The Hulk/Darth Vador/Skelator/Cobra:
Type of Person: There's no reason to sugar-coat this...chances are you were a bully.
Favorite School Subject: Gym, you could even kick the gym teachers ass in dodge-ball.
Lunch Then: You stole lunch money and never carried any food in there, it was strictly cash. Lunch Now: Whatever the person in the cubical next to you is getting...and he'll pick it up for you too cause you make him nervous.




Peanuts/The Muppets/Mickey Mouse:
Type of Person: You were probably the odd man out, an easy target for the bully. If "Sir" was your favorite character you might be a lesbian.
Favorite School Subject: Reading...you didn't like to make waves.
Lunch Then: Tuna and an apple, the bully wouldn't bother beating anyone up for that.
Lunch Now: Whatever they guy in the cube next to you wants...and you'll pick it up for him because he makes you nervous.




Wonder Woman/The Invisible Girl/Super Girl/Charlie's Angels/Cat Woman/Sheera:
Type of Person: The boys usually picked you first for sports cause you could hold your own. You did not take crap from the other girls and got in trouble more than once for trying to take on the bully. If you were a guy, scratch all of that and reverse...and you are probably headlining your own drag queen show.
Favorite School Subject: Math, you were a wiz at standardized tests.
Lunch Then: Peanut Butter & Jelly and fruit...you didn't mess around.
Lunch Now: Whatever you want, you have a supermodels metabolism.




Brown Paper Bag/Plain Tin Lunch Box/Fabric Thermo Lunchbox:
Type of Person: Your favorite books were along the lines of the Hardy Boys or Nancy Drew. You kept to yourself and had a secret clubhouse. Your other favorite accessory was your Inspector Gadget watch.
Favorite School Subject: Science. You loved chemistry and experimenting.
Lunch Then: Tomato sandwiches. They were Harriet the Spy's favorite.
Lunch Now: Leftovers wrapped in foil, you don't want to broadcast your lunch.


So, tell us...what did you carry your lunch in way back when?? What do you carry your lunch in now?? And don't forget WFL???

There are more people out there, just like us...

This article "Our Finest Hour" from The Washington Post Magazine sounds eerily familiar.

We have built it, why don't they come?

The people are crying out for OWFL!!!



Lunch

"The Best Laid Plans..."

Here we are one day in and it looks like we need to do some schedule juggling.

Expect a Conference recap post this week, not sure exactly which day though (THURSDAY!).

I will say that in this Czar's opinion it was a near perfect weekend (a few hiccups; tee-shirts, weather). I think everyone is agreed that we have to have these conferences at least once a year and that once a season might be too much for our bodies to take.

As I said HT and TAFKALC will be giving us their Conference recap later this week (THURSDAY!), but I invite the conference participants to share a favorite memory of the weekend with those unfortunate OWFLers who couldn't make it. I am also curious to hear what the non-attending OWFLers kept busy with this weekend while the rest of us were watching microwave death matches, drinking banned liquids, sweating our asses off at Chief Ike's and eating the best damned birthday cake ever.

So look for an updated schedule before the end of the day, and tell us about your non-conference weekend or a memory from your conference weekend and of course don't forget to tell the most important thing...WFL?

Conference: Day One

Welcome to the First Annual Original What's For Lunch Conference!! Last night was a pre-opening night fun fest which, oddly enough, closely resembled what's on the agenda for this evening... hmmmm... very inTEResting...

Yours truly had to leave to procure a hypodermic needle and take a certain former WFLer home, and met up with the crew later on in the night. At this point Giggles and Friend had arrived, and everyone was getting acquainted with HorseCock. There was pool playing, beer drinking, dancing, lots of singing, falafel (and I don't mean that in the creepy Bill O'Reilly way), pizza, and some friendly wagering on whether or not LT was going to get some from her pool partner.

Tonight the festivities get started around 5pm at the legendary Bravo Bravo. Uni's bringing her world famous tittiecakes, and I'll be bringing my as-yet-to-be-made snickerdoodles, for delicious dunking in Bud Light.

I know this was supposed to be a joint post of me and Giggles, but I am willing to bet that I am the only one up and functioning out of last night's crew of degenerates. I need to get my lazy butt to the supermarket to pick up some more supplies and get to cookin' - like all good women should. I also need to neaten my sty of a house in advance of collecting TheJade at Baltimore/Washington International Thurgood Marshall Airport. (for a city where one in three residents can't read a map, and therefore they had to abandon the motto "The City That Reads," that's a hell of a lot of words for a damn airport)

So for those of you lame-o's going to the Cubs game tomorrow, or the others who would be here if you could, because you know that this is the place to be, how are you planning to assuage that longing to be in DC with the other OWFLers? What's on the menu for your noontime meal? Truthfully, I think I need to procure some Saltines, because even sober, I couldn't resist the allure of the 2:30 am falafel, and I know better than to eat that late and now, my body is rebelling. But, I'll fight through - because that's what I do. I'm a trooper after all, and it's THE BEST GODDAMNED CONFERENCE THIS TOWN HAS EVER SEEN!!!!

You Took Me For Granted

Amen Beat

The Amen Beat is something we've all taken for granted. It's a beat that sticks in our head while taking that long road trip. It's that beat we try to recreate at our desk with pencils. It's that beat we've all taken for granted. So let's take a step back and recognized a little piece of music that's gone unrecognized for decades, give it justice and say "amen". Let's not take it for granted.

*****************************************************************

So, you might be thinking, where the hell is PeeP going with this. A couple of days ago, I took the subway to work, which I do ever so often. The stop I get off is the Monroe stop on the Blue Line. When I got to the top of the stairs that day, I looked left for the first time in a while. Something was there. Something that's always there. Always.

It's the Four Seasons mural by Marc Chagall. It's huge and wonderful and alive. I ignore it almost every day I've taken the train. The city ignores it. I never see anyone admiring it. It stands alone. It literally stopped me in my tracks that day. I felt horrible and promised myself I would spend some time with it very soon.

This is what I did after work last night. I pulled the old trusty camera out and shot segments of it. Tried to find meaning in its little glass bits. I finally felt like I gave it a bit of the justice it deserved. A bit.
**********************************************************************

So I ask all you OWFLers to take a step back today. On your daily commute that sweet old man you pass. That loved one you see every morning or night. The smile at the deli counter. That one building you could never admire enough. What is it? What do you take for granted? We all do it, so dont' feel bad. Take the time today and talk about why you enjoy those things that normally go ignored.

Oh, and while you're here....WFL??!!???

When I Grow Up...

I wish we could do what they do in Katroo.
They sure know how to say “Happy Birthday to You!”

In Katroo, every year, on the day you were born
They start the day right in the bright early morn
When the birthday Honk-Honker hikes high up Mt. Zorn
And lets loose a big blast on the big Birthday Horn.
And the voice on the horn calls out loud as it plays:
“Wake Up! For today is your Day of all Days!”

I figured this children’s classic is the most fitting way to kick-off the birthday wishes to our beloved Josephus who is still…young at heart. Actually, I can’t think of birthdays and not think of this book, as my mom used to read it to me every year. In all honesty I never cared much for it, but I tolerated it anyway. Perhaps because on some subconscious level I identified with that other Seuss creation: The Grinch.

All I ever REALLY wanted to be when I was younger was Kira from Xanadu. I was never a “girly-girl”; but I loved her outfits, her roller-skates, her powers, the music she skated to (dear GOD bring back ELO), everything. I would have given anything to get sucked through a tacky mural in heroin-infested Venice Beach back in those days. But ultimately I guess I should have known I would never amount to anything other than The Grinch.

So on this special day let’s think back to a more innocent time. Before we all headed off to save the world as corporate middle-men and have power (boozy) lunches – we all had dreams of being someone else. Today is the day to reveal what character in a movie (or I guess a book – for those weirdos) you REALLY wanted to be when you were a child.

As for our dearest lunch czar – I wish him a birthday filled with monsters and demons - - and the superpowers to conquer them.

And to everyone else still unaffected by time: “a very merry un-birthday to you!”

P.S. In honor of the day I am trying to put the hate aside, but please don’t give me that crap you think is cool today and pretend you always liked it – give me the ugly, embarrassing truth!!

Kiss My Arse

Making the "Kiss My Arse" cake for La Choi's b-day was probably the most entertaining dessert I have ever made! I wasn't sure how it was going to turn out initially, but if I do say so myself...it didn't come out too shabby! So thank you everyone at the DC BB HH for receiving one of my greatest creations with open arms, and La Choi I hope you had a great b-day!!

As I have mentioned before on previous posts, I heart to cook and bake. If I had the balls (and the finances) to open my own bakery or cafe it would be a dream come true! Or I would start some sort of non-profit that offers cooking classes to children, or an organization that works with individuals with eating disorders that would help them attain and sustain a healthy diet through educational/nutritional services and cooking classes that would teach them how to make and eat food that would make them feel better about themselves. Although with the arse cake I think I'm more in the market for a porn shop/bakery...Ahhh..pipe dreams!

What type of hobby or interest would you like to pursue if suddenly you had the option to junk your current job and open your own business? Would you be concerned about turning that hobby into a career? I often wonder if I did make cooking something I did for business instead of pleasure, would my love for it be compromised?

So while you share your thoughts, dreams, and what gets your creative juices flowing...don't forget to tell us...WFL!!!

I think I'm the only DC OWFLer who's not hungover

Wow. Last night was Giggle's birthday and we're all feeling it in one way or another today. I can testify that LT wants to vomit, and almost did so directly in front of Jeff Gannon who was standing outside of his home on I St. doing something with buckets and hoses.

After dropping LT off at home, I made my way through the city - which is nothing short of a ridiculous clusterfuck due to The Tourists' descent on our fair city, in proportions reminiscent of the Great Cicada Invasion of 2003. Intent on gawking at the Cherry Blossoms (which, viewed from the comfort of my car, while crossing the 14th Street Bridge, really were quite lovely), I fought through their swarming masses to get over to Giggles' place, so we could score some delicious goods from So's Your Mom, and enjoy the day, eating sandwiches, outside in the wind.

We opted to share (I'm sharing all over the place, lately) a Deluxe Italian and a Rare Roast Beef, which were both excellent and fixed what ailed TAFKALC - namely hunger and hangover. (I received a poignant text very early this morning from the Birthday Girl, with only two words: I'm Dying.)

Now, I'm back home, with my windows open, because although it is a beautiful day, all I want is to be on my couch, napping. I am not hungover in the least, however, I am sleepy.

I would say that The Three Stop birthday was a smashing success, despite leaving nearly every participant incapicitated today. I know we left some very drunken voicemailes on The Jade's phone, and I'd be interested to know if they were at all decipherable or coherent. Giggles has uploaded the evening's photos, and I suspect we'll be privy to those soon enough. I also expect that Gigs will post a full recap of the evening over at her blog.

So, what are the other WFLers up to this weekend? How is everyone eating their hangovers away?