Buckle in, because this post might get a bit long. Here's a breakdown of 2012 in my corner of the world:
and has gotten much bigger now (right)!
Lower than your expectations? We'll see!
What the hell are you doing to my food?
Pizza for lunch. Or, since I got up at noon and ordered it at 3pm, maybe a really really (really) late breakfast. One of those things that you can only get away with as an adult, and only rarely for me. You know, one day off of healthier eating isn't that bad.
So, I decided to get Domino's. I didn't actually have pizza, but instead one of those sandwiches they make. They have a mango habañero sandwich, did you know that? Mmmmm. Sweet, and spicy, and with just a little crunch from the bread and the jalapeño slices. Sounds pretty good, right? It is. Or, more accurately, it was.
They also have a neat little order tracker, when you order online, with five steps. The first and second, placing the order and prepping the food, go pretty quickly. The third one, cooking the food, took the longest. Not surprising, but then I got to the fourth step: "(employee name) is checking your food for deliciousness!"
. . .
HOW?! Are they licking it, tasting it? Are they giving it a good rub-down and then tasting their hands? ARE THEY UNDRESSING MY FOOD WITH THEIR EYES? EYE-RAPING IT?!
Sure, it probably means they're making sure it's all up to food-service safe temperatures, but is "checking [it's] deliciousness!" the right way to put that? Now, if I ever go in there and see that employee, it might get awkward.

You know what was kind of a trip? Walking in to the restaurant here at work to get some coffee earlier and seeing my boss (the general manager of the hotel) behind the line, cooking.
Turns out that she was cooking lasagna for the “pasta and karaoke” night that they do every Wednesday. I think it’s one of the (very) few times that she has cooked here at work, but holy crap, it turned out great.
That’s right, I saved some of that shit. That’s gonna make for a GOOOOOD lunch tonight during my work shift. It’s probably the best homemade lasagna that I’ve had since before my grandpa passed, since he was the only (good) cook in the family aside from me. He’s the one I learned from, too.
Anyway, yeah. Fuck yes lasagna. Garfield would be jealous. Fat cat can kiss my ass.
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