Today for Lunch

Brendan,

I too have been enjoying some time outside. Leah’s been spending more time at the university, so I’ve been going home at lunch to walk Duke.

Earlier in the day, when I was still outside and enjoying life, I had the sweet and naive ambition to try and save you from becoming who I am, but then I realized that there’s never hope of saving you.

I’ll just show you what I did over my lunch hour and it sickens me—but I felt like my last letter was particularly harsh and I thought the studio audience in my head might have got the wrong idea about me and thus want to show the softer side.

That’s pronounced:

Mai Poo-KEY, Whew-KEY, Do-KEY

How cute am I? And, just as important, how cute is he!? And that leads you to this picture:

So here’s how my lunch hour broke down:

• 20 minutes to drive home
• 15 minutes to walk Duke (5 minutes spent taking cute pictures and making cutesy noises at Duke)
• 3 minutes to cook ichiban
• 1.25 minutes to eat
• 45 seconds to write this letter (in my head)
• 20 minutes to drive back to work

I wanted to save you from a pathetic life of loving your pets too much. But I can’t. Because I know you love Finnegan way too much. It’s creepy. The obvious thing to do here is make a peanut butter joke, but I’m not going there. Nope, nope, nope.

Pets are wonderful and the ichiban is always the same.

Rhett

P.S. Is it sad that we’ve written maybe 40 letters total and this is, I’m pretty sure, my second—if not third—reference to a lunch of ichiban.

Brendan,

It’s been a while since I’ve written, but I’m currently in a trans-fat coma so I thought it would be a good time to write.

I just finished a Turkey-bacon Crustini and I feel like I may have just swallowed the seed of the beast. I swear to Jesus if some kind of alien/parasite bursts out of my stomach later today I’m going to be really pissed off.

I suppose I should be saying congratulations on finding a woman who’d dare to say yes to your marriage proposal (when she took you for dinner). I’d go off on a tangent about that, but right now I have other things I need to address—like not letting your (future) wife go grocery shopping by herself or else she’ll come back with frozen dinners for lunch for you that are 50% trans fat.

Seriously, I simultaneously feel stoned and nauseous. After two minutes on high in the microwave, that thing was full of liquid hot magma cheese and edible turkey/bacon bits.

It’s like she’s trying to kill me and we don’t even have insurance, so she’s not even in it for the money. She just wants me to die. And that, my friend, is basically the perfect analogy for marriage.

So when the day finally comes, when you say I do, make sure you dive head-first and—if God loves you—no one will have filled the pool.

I think I’m going to throw up,
Rhett

Brendan,

I had a brilliant idea last night after I did a shot of tequila—we should institute a standing date together and drink tequila. I really enjoy tequila. You know that great warmth you get from it? It’s like a hug from Jesus. A wonderful Mexican Jesus.

But I got to thinking today, while I hovered over my Campbells chicken soup, that this might not be a great idea. Side note: I don’t know why Campbells takes all this time to brag about all the salt they removed from their soup because I just add it right back. That shit tastes awful without salt. And we apparently don’t have pepper in the office otherwise I would have loaded it down.

Anyway, I figure that this is actually a bad idea because I don’t know about you but when I’m running hard down tequila alley I tend to get a little crazy. I’ve often heard tequila referred to as panty remover. Frankly, I don’t think tequila is gender specific. Tequila, the slut, goes both ways.

What I’m saying here is that I don’t want to get 6 shots in and see you starting to unbutton your shirt or twisting your moustache and giving me the googly eyes. I can see it happening in my mind and it scares the shit out of me. What if I can’t resist?

I am aware of how attractive you are under that douchey hipster exterior and I will admit some weakness for your pale blue eyes. And as far as temptation goes, you and I are not known for our ability to withstand… I just don’t think Tequila Thursdays are going to work.

Let’s take this a step further and just not ever drink together alone.

Never yours,
Rhett

PS – I still haven’t opened that bottle of tequila you gave me and we should at least crack the bottle together. What are you doing on Tuesday?

Brendan,

I know the metaphorical axe swinging gives you the sweats like nothing else. I’m really glad I don’t actually work with you (in person) anymore.

I went to the Iron Wood Grill in Inglewood today. I think, prior to being in Texas, that I would’ve thought that’s what Texas was like. Now that I’ve been, I can say it doesn’t match up. I mean, the look is pretty close, but the taste is so far off. They used to have good food. These days it’s in disarray.

I went to Iron Works in Austin. That was real Texas BBQ. One small spoon of beans and potato salad and five fistfuls of smoked and BBQ’d meat. There are plaques all over the walls from past presidents (and the current one) and other congress people. Willie Nelson and others. It’s famous BBQ.

It’s hard to deal with the fact that yesterday I had no responsibilities other than drink beer, listen to music and enjoy life and now I have to be at work, be competent (at least) and meet deadlines. Frankly, I’m getting the sweats too.

Rhett

Brendan,

I’m in Austin. I’m hungover. There’s so much free alcohol here. How am I supposed to say no?

I went to the Taco Shack today for a burrito. I don’t want you to think I’m experimenting with new and dangerous foods. I looked for the most bland options that were safe and stomach-friendly and bought that—and it was awesome. Bacon, eggs, potatoes and cheese jammed into a tortilla. A meal, that would take me 20 minutes to eat if it was on a plate, but in a burrito I can put that sucker down in 5 minutes. And all for $4. Plus, it really went a long way to cure my hangover and push out last nights evil.

Rhett

Brendan,

I’m really busy. Plus, I have been eating the turkey, pickles and mayo sandwich again. So I’m depressed. I mean, really depressed. But I’m also excited because I’m leaving for SXSW on Friday. Of course, this is all very confusing for me emotionally, but I will do my best as I savour the best BBQ in the States.

I hope we get a cold snap while I’m away,
Rhett

Brendan,

For your birthday, I’m putting down Harry Potter to write you this—as you requested. I don’t want you to think it’s a present or celebration of the day you were born, but a somber dirge. I know this can’t be a happy day for you as every additional year of your life means that your body subtracts a little more hair on your head. And adds more hair on your belly. Your ever expanding belly. Every year is another notch on the belt. As your age expands so does your gut.

I went to the cafe down the street and got a wrap. A turkey-bacon wrap. But no matter what angle I bit all I could taste was tomato. I really hate tomato.

I’ve bought you a present that will not help your waistline, but hopefully it will help you cope with another year with yourself. I bought myself another bottle of gin—hopefully it lasts me the week.

I’ll be late for your party tomorrow,
Rhett

Brendan,

I need to do a little catch-up here as it seems I’ve fallen behind and I know you take any opportunity you can to make me look like a real asshole.

Today, we (Leah and I) stopped in to SuperStore to pickup some cheap sushi for lunch. I always get the vegetarian rolls as, I’m sure you know, there’s no way in hell I’m eating cold, un-cooked fish. That shit is disgusting. For the record, I won’t even eat the ones with the fake crab.

While I went to get the sushi, Leah busied herself in the hair-care section of the store and found yet more products to make her hair shinier, curlier and smellier. As I perused the sushi options (ie: looked for the platter with the cucumber rolls) a cute red-head came over and asked if I needed any help. She may or may not have winked at me. Let’s just say that she definitely wanted me. Let the legal record show that I’m pretty sure she was 18. As I’ve mentioned before, I have a certain affinity towards gingers both real or otherwise.

Well apparently some internal alarm clock had gone off inside Leah because, from 20 feet away, she started yelling at me to hurry up. Embarrassed, I said “I’m okay”, grabbed the sushi and left. I know you and Tara have been together for a while. Don’t take that next step. The only thing wives are good for is totally cockblocking you from hitting on the help. At this rate, I will never make out with a red head. Though I did e-date one once (or she said she was a red head) when I was 20, but she lived in Alabama. Also, she was a little crazy.

The sushi was pretty good. I mean, it’s rice, cucumber, that seaweed wrap stuff and some soy sauce. The flavours are pretty standard.

Rhett

Brendan,

I would have written to tell you this on February 14th, but I was wallowing in a pit of despair and loneliness. Or I bought a new video game and didn’t stop playing it all weekend. On Valentine’s Day, I didn’t eat anything for lunch. That is to say, all I ate was my own sadness and some popcorn—microwavable.

The worst thing about being alone on Valentine’s Day, when you have an other and predominantly couple friends, is that there is no one to hang out with. It’s like a double-whammy of nut-crunching sadness.

She comes home today. So, things will probably improve for me. Also, I had some leftover Chinese food today. It was minimal.

Rhett

My dearest Brendan,

I’m lonely and Leah has left me for some baby—my sister-in-law had another baby. It’s her second. But my other sister-in-law has two as well. A baby is a baby is a baby, right? Does anything even change after the first? It’s a small blob for the first six months anyway. Well, I guess it’s important to some people. Personally, I find the province of children to be entirely terrifying. I hate to be cliche, but I don’t really have a lot of choice in the matter. I’m white, male, suburban and complain about how good my life is.

In any case, I came home for lunch today because I had to walk Duke. I think I’ve also been suffering from eating at my desk. Yesterday, I walked over to the Tuscan Soup Garden which is owned and operated by an Asian family (I don’t believe they are from Tuscany and it seems like a strange name choice to me). So I’ve been getting out. Today, I made KD and a smokie. My father’s ultitarian meal of choice and one of my favourites.

The premise of going home was to walk Duke, but I ended up watching most of a Holmes Inspection episode and Duke just got a quick pee. He barked at this crazy hoarder that lives two houses down. I was proud that he could spot the crazy. Or maybe he just hates old people. I’m pretty okay with either.

I look forward to our lunch on Saturday,
Rhett