Today for Lunch

Dear Rhett,

Two weeks of hanging out with my childhood friends have left me suffering from mild kidney pain and acute poverty. Though still several months shy of my 30th year, I just can’t seem to binge drink the way I used to — and not for lack of trying.

I mention my struggles with alcohol not to highlight yet another deficiency of my character, but rather to explain away the sad state of my pocketbook. I didn’t even want to risk a trip to the supermarket this weekend in the interest of avoiding the discomfort I’d feel should my debit card be declined. Weeks like this are the reason I keep the pantry well-stocked. I feel no qualms about spinning my circumstances when talking with Tara. I’m not too poor to buy meat. I’m interested in exploring vegetarian options. Hello lentil soup and meatless spaghetti.

The only problem with my approach is that I didn’t have any emergency lunch fixings kicking around. I’d planned on eating a week-old couscous I’d left in the fridge at work last week, but when I opened it up, the stench of rotting Merguez nearly knocked me over. It appeared I’d have to chance having my card declined at one of the NE’s many fast food restaurants. Not exactly an enticing lunch option.

I ended up in the drive-through at Wendy’s on 32nd Avenue. I ordered a Spicy Chicken combo with regular size fries and a Coke. The clerk then asked what size I wanted. I glanced at the menu board to ensure I was using the correct terminology and then specified that I had meant medium when I said regular. I just assumed that would be understood. I promise to hold fast food personnel to a lower standard in the future.

Regardless of this woman’s stupidity, I promptly received my food, passed my card through the window and punched in my PIN. I made sure the car was in gear, and as soon as I handed it back to her, I hit the gas. I’m still not sure if the transaction was approved or not. I don’t really care.

Full either way,
Brendan

Dear Rhett,

Even though I don’t especially care for warm weather, I feel like it behooves me as a Calgarian to go outside and enjoy it on the rare days it appears. When I was less mobile, this would take the form of walks around the neighborhood, maybe as far as the Tim Horton’s on 32 Avenue for a mediocre sandwich and cup of bittersweet coffee. Now that wheels have expanded my range, I opted to go for a drive.

I ended up heading towards the Inter-Faith Furniture barn, which lies halfway between the office and my house. I popped in on the off chance they were selling something I absolutely had to have. Nothing really caught my fancy, though I did pick up some Mason jars that might end up being re-purposed for our wedding in one way or another. Despite the lack of bounty, I ended up spending more time there than I’d planned on, and had to pick something up to bring back to the office.

I swung by Cedars Deli on Edmonton Trail. Standing in line (and there is always a line), I waffled between getting a Shawarma or a Falafel sandwich, when the man in front of me casually asked for a Cornerstone on whole wheat. I was flabbergasted. I didn’t even know this was an option, nevermind what it was made of.

I watched with great interest as the sweaty middle-eastern server crushed a falafel ball onto the open pita before scooping Shawarma meat on top of it. It was a revelation. No longer was I limited to either/or. I could have both, in one magical pita sandwich.

When he raised his head and asked me what I wanted, it was a no-brainer.

“I’ll have what he’s having.”

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

Dear Rhett,

Ever since I bought that truck, I’ve been real lazy about riding my bike to work. There’s always some semblance of a reason that keeps me from pedaling in (today I told myself I’d be riding if not for a much-needed trip to the pet store to buy dog food) but if I’m being honest with you, the real reason is that I’m celebrating my new-found freedom from the cafeteria’s pseudo-food.

You probably won’t be surprised by how quickly I got accustomed to picking up real food for lunch. At first, I’d only do so when I was already out and about thrifting, but now lunch has become the main event.

Take today, for instance. While I did pop into the Mennonite Thrift Shop briefly, my real destination was Basil, a Vietnamese place on 32nd Ave NE that Tara reviewed a while back.

I got a marinated meatball sub that tasted nothing like the Subway version that I’m sure you’re thinking about. I briefly thought about eating in the restaurant but then decided against it because I was alone and didn’t want to feel like a loser. Instead I brought it back to my desk and felt like a loser anyway. Such is life.

At any rate, I fear that I’m rambling. Just thought you might be curious as to what I had today for lunch.

Warm regards,
Brendan

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?

Rhett,

I can’t believe it’s May already. Looks like we’ve missed an entire month of lunches. So much mediocrity unremarked upon… so many sorrowful binges without even a silent witness. It’s making me feel as if an unexamined lunch is not worth eating.

Now that I’ve got a vehicle of my own, I feel less tethered to my desk. I went thrifting yesterday just to get out of the office. It reminded me of the handful of times you joined me in scouring the second hand stores for whatever junk caught my fancy. There wasn’t much yesterday.

I realized that I’d wasted most of my lunch hour without actually eating anything, so I walked across the parking lot from the Salvation Army and got a Turkey Ranch and Swiss sub from Quiznos. I half recall us going to a downtown food court location years ago when you were on the way out at Zoom. I’ve never been a huge fan of toasted subs, but for a snowy Spring afternoon it seemed like just the thing. I ate it in a hurry so I could make a 1 o’clock meeting.

Best,
Brendan

Hey Rhett,

Even though I brought some leftover Deep Dish Pizza for lunch, I ended up going to the Sunridge food court just to get out of the office. It seems too early in the week to be having a day like this, but there’s not much to be done about it. It made me wonder if it was possible to be seasonally depressed in the springtime. If so, what does that say about me? I prefer it when the landscape is grey and barren? If spring can’t cheer me up, what can?

Hint: it’s not shitty fast food. I opted for The Works from New York Fries. I don’t know if you’ve ever made it out to the east coast, but if you order fries with the works in Prince Edward Island, it actually means something. Don’t be fooled by the definitive article — The Works at New York Fries is pretty gross. Wilted vegetables and a sour cream to chili ratio that definitely favoured the former.

One thing that really bothered me about the meal was the placemat exhorting me to become their friend on Facebook or follow them on Twitter. I know you’re more of a social media guy than I am, but I couldn’t conceive of what possible reason I would have for friending a fry shop. It seems like social networks are going the way of the postal service — once a powerful network connecting disparate communities, increasingly used as a coupon delivery device. Kind of depressing.

Hope you’re having a happier day than I am,
Brendan

Hey Rhett,

It’s too cold in the offices here to really get my juices flowing. It’s not like when we worked at Marketwire. The aroma of earnings periods and browser-based MMOGs still burns my nostrils. You called it your geek stink. But I digress.

I made a pasta dish with a ragu of tiny meatballs last night and had tons leftover for today. It was really good. I’m glad I brought a lunch instead of going for shawarmas with Jackson and Chris. I’ve been trying to wrap-up a big project that I’ve been working on for a few weeks now and it was really helpful to just work between bites. I feel like a different person than I was in my Tribal Wars days. I wonder what happened to me.

Not terribly concerned,
Brendan

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

Rhett,

While you’ve been binge-drinking in Texas, I’ve been working with my nose to the grindstone. Ever since the axe came down a couple weeks back, things have gotten kind of hectic around the office. You don’t need me to tell you that it’s had a detrimental effect on my correspondence.

At any rate, I like the sound of the that taco shack you mention. Hell, I like the sound of Austin period. I’d like to go someday. This may explain my craving for Tex-Mex cuisine. While I imagine your Mexican breakfast was a lot more authentic than the quesadilla I got from the cafeteria today, mine came with some kind of corn salsa in it which elevated it from mediocre to adequate. This is as close as a rave review as Bytes is ever likely to get.

Speaking of which, there’s a new girl working there in the kitchen who talks to me more than I’d prefer. Sometimes I don’t want to talk about my order, I just want to order. Does that make me a prick? I don’t think so.

Straight-forwardly,
Brendan