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Boy, talk about stress

I played golf yesterday and grabbed a hot dog at the turn for lunch. While the hotdog was juicy and delicious—I put Dijon mustard on it—I always find the experience of eating in the middle of the round unpleasant. You have to rush so you don’t slow everybody down. You end up trying eat, drive the cart, write down the scores from the 9th hole, drive the 10th fairway, and not get mustard on you all at the same time. It can be a very anxious time. You end up eating the hotdog in three unchewed bites and inevitably smearing some mustard on your cheek, and then you use your shirt sleeve to wipe it off. I'm serious.

My point? Being a self-indulgent, pleasure-seeking, doughy, upper-middle-class yuppie isn’t always a bag of shells.


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Jeffie on :

Ricky - some pointers for you:

1. Let your yuppie golf pal keep the scorecard - so you can better focus on stuffing your piehole with lard at the turn.

2. Do a 2 hour session of massage therapy after your round (those motorized cart seats don't recline - therefore they are hard on your back).

3. Keep a stungun in your golf bag. This will help you be less anxious about the pace or disposition of the peasants behind you.

Stuart on :

I know exactly what you mean. Just last night I was eating a delicious Beef and Guinness Pie [1]. It consisted of tender stout-soaked beef morsels enshrined by a golden-brown layer of delectable puff pastry on top. It looked great and tasted even better, but as I struggled to pierce through the top crust I began to perspire lightly, and for a moment I almost decided to go hungry. Then some primeval instinct was awakened deep within me and I attacked the pie with renewed ferocity.

Then I had some chocolate bread pudding with Irish cream sauce.

Later, as I reflected on the meal, I realized what I had experienced that evening was exactly what our forefathers experienced daily. I'm told that back then, food wasn't served up on a silver platter; if you wanted to eat you had to get to work hunting. If you were too lazy to hunt, there would be no meat for you. Conversely, once you go to the trouble hunting for your food and killing it and whatnot, it tastes all the better.

Anyway, that beef pie sure was excellent, but next time I might try putting the crust on the bottom.

Ricky on :

Thanks for the excellent recap, Stuart. I like the way you breeze right over the chocolate bread pudding. Intriguing. Too bad it was a dinner story, not a lunch story.

F. Banger on :

So what does this have to do with Ricky'S lunch? I don't get it. Why do people insist on telling me about what they had for lunch or dinner? I don't care! If I want to improve my lunch game, I need to read professional pieces of work, not some shotty coat tail riding dribble. Besides, I thought comments were to comment on Ricky'S blog, not to blog inside a blog. With that said, nice piece Ricky. I hope you're not blaming your round on some 1/4 lb pork product?

Ricky on :

You have strong opinions on appropriate techniques for administering lunch blogs, F. Banger. You should start your own and apply them their. Good luck with that.

Stuart on :

F. Banger,

Was my comment a "weak, unsteady stream; a trickle"? Was it "a small quantity; a bit"? I think you will agree with me that it was neither of these.

No sir, my comment was not 'dribble' at all; it was 'drivel'.

I forgive you for mischaracterizing my comment; just try not to let it happen again.

Ricky on :

Can't we all just get along? Which do you think would make Al Qaeda happy? Us fighting among ourselves? Or us not fighting among ourselves?

When we snip at each other over lunch blogging, the terrorists win.

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