I rarely go to a restaurant for lunch. I like having somebody cook and bring me food, but restaurants often have other people in them, and they often ask for my money when I’m done eating — some before I even start eating. The whole experience is rather off-putting. Yet, my wife suggested today that I try something called “leaving the house” and taking her to lunch. I told her there was some of that lunch stuff right here — vienna sausages, a third of a loaf of bread and some kinds of weeds in a fridge drawer. “You mean […]
If Cracker Barrel hurts your feelings, you might be an EG-NO-RA-MOOSE
