Last night, after dinner at the falafel joint on Bedford Avenue, a drink with Gerry (on a patio), a brief affair with Tasti D-Lite, Toby Joe and I headed home to flip through our 1000+ channels. Time Warner has been good to us. We should probably learn how to spend more time with him instead of dropping 50+ dollars a night eating out. I’m not sure what’s up, but lately I can’t seem to return home right after work. I blame the heat. Not that it makes much sense to want to be outside, away from the comforts of your one, window-unit air-condition, instead of huddled next to it like a couple of bums in winter do a flaming trash can. But I just can’t seem to do it.
Right now, it’s not even 8 AM and I’m thinking to myself, “Man, I can’t wait until work is over and I can come home and watch movies and pet my cats. I can’t wait to do that.” But watch! My tune will change. By 1 PM, I will have had a bland, dieter’s lunch. At around 2 PM the food will have worn off. I’ll become aware, again, of my torso. By 4 PM I’ll become consumed by hunger and cravings more powerful than a beer-drinker’s fart. At 5 PM, I’ll begin writing random iChats to Toby, things like “Food is good, I like food.” or “I’m so hungry, I could eat my fist.” He never really knows what to say. But we ALL know how I get when I am hungry. By the time I’m off work, I want to eat immediately. No, I can’t wait until we go home. No, I don’t want something quick because most “quick” things are unhealthy and while a bean burrito from Taco Bell is something I usually want to have oral sex with, I just can’t bring myself to do it. Not yet.
So we go out. And we eat at sit-down places. And New York City and her sister, Brooklyn, aren’t cheap dates. As a matter of fact, they will rip you off most of the time. But they’re good company so you do what you can.
But I need to go home from now on. I need to stop spending so much of our money. We’d have a down-payment on a house or a new car if we could just cut down on all the eating out.
(Damn you, New York. Damn you.)