When writing, I split my time between my chambers and my satellite office: my neighborhood Chick-fil-A. It offers the word-nerd trifecta: I bring Bose headphones; they provide Wi-Fi and waffle fries.
Very rarely does food enhance the conversation. If the food is really good, there'll be much less conversation because you'd be concentrating too much on the food.
Dog's listen, or appear to listen. I think they hear blah, blah, blah, FOOD, blah, blah, blah. They appear to be listening to you.
Strider: Red hots dude. He'd ruin anything for a mouthful of those. Now pull over. William: Gummy Bears. You should have said so.
No man is lonely eating spaghetti; it requires so much attention.
The best way to catch my attention is to throw a Twinkie near my face.
The atmosphere is so tense, if Elvis walked in, with a portion of chips... you could hear the vinegar sizzle on them.
Holiday eating is a study in paradox. You're surrounded by food, but you're so busy shopping and cooking that you don't have time to eat. Then, when your blood sugar dips to the point of derangement, you make a desperate lunge for the closest foodstuff - and the next thing you know, you've eaten an entire box of regifted peppermint bark.
