Chapter 4: You Hungry?

I firmly believe the Fried Egg Sandwich is the most perfect food on earth. It is a luxurious but cheeky little sandwich. To the innocent passerbys and patrons it says, "Psst... Hey mister, you like what you see? You wanna make a sexy time?" And like any overinflated celebrity, you say yes because it's as pretty as you are, cheap, will make you feel guilty later, and it's magically delicious. I mean that literally. There's some kind of metaphysical process that's triggered when you bite into that goodness. On occassion I've almost cried a lone tear of pure joy.

Manhattan and the surrounding burroughs have some of the most amazing and celebrated eateries you'll find anywhere. Does that matter to me? Um, yes. I love food-love it. Did I mention I love it? But more importantly, people will deliver that food to you any time of day. It's completely genius. And p.s., it's not just for shut-ins.

Let's say "Jane" came home on a Friday night somewhat disheveled and intoxicated. After a subsequent and semi-brief loss of time, she may have woken up at 6 a.m. on her floor, finding random chunks of her hair glued to her face and missing a shoe. What is her first thought? Hunger. She can barely form sentences, but don't worry Jane, the deli down the street delivers. And as an added bonus, no judgy attitude or look of horror from the delivery guy. They've seen it all. Crisis averted. Food coma achieved.

So what happens when you develop an obsession for a type of food? Other than your friends openly mocking you for it, not much. It seems no one really cares what you eat, as long as you don't make a public display of yourself or I suppose, take up violence (in order to get that food). I think I did have a dream once where I robbed a Godiva shop. "This is a stick up, bitch! Put all that chocolate in the bag...now! No! Not the coffee ones! I hate that shit! And don't scimp on the caramels...I got my eye on you." I wonder just how much chocolate you have to steal in order to be charged with a felony?

But admitedly, I'll probably end up with a food addiction. My only hope is that my friends and family don't corral me into an awkward intervention while I'm low-browing it at some chain restaurant like Red Lobster.