Food trucks have always been the dining option of last resort — “roach coaches” we called them. Now food trucks are considered fashionable cuisine. People actually make an effort to find them and eat from them.
Whoever’s in charge of brand management for the food truck industry has got to be a genius.
From the Offical Voter Information Guide:
Requires labeling of food sold to consumers made from plants or animals with genetic material changed in specified ways. Prohibits marketing such food, or other processed food, as “natural.” Provides exemptions. Fiscal Impact: Increased annual state costs from a few hundred thousand dollars to over $1 million to regulate the labeling of genetically engineered foods. Additional, but likely not significant, governmental costs to address violations under the measure.
Notice this phrase: “Provides exemptions.” In other words, the statute requires certain things and prohibits certain other things — except when it doesn’t.
Not that it matters because $1 million a year isn’t going to buy you a lot of enforcement anyway. Who wrote this proposition, Dr. Evil?
Prop 37 is supported by people who hate freedom and having to think for themselves.
I’m taking a nap upstairs but I’m hearing noises from downstairs. When I hear a noise, I have to estimate how likely it is to be food-related, and how likely it is if I get up and go downstairs I’ll be able to get some of it.
I can stay right here and snooze. That’s a sure thing. Or I can go downstairs and try to get some food. But if I get up and go downstairs and I don’t get any food, then a good nap has been spoiled.
I have to do this estimation every time I hear a noise.
Being a dog is not as easy as people think.
— Lightning 
Why is it good for chocolate to be “velvety”? Do you really want a mouth full of velvet?
I’m listening to a couple of women talking about their new beaus and who should pay for the dinner dates in a budding relationship.
Man pays? Take turns? 50/50?
For what it’s worth, ladies, back when I was dating, I paid for the food, but depending on how the rest of the evening played out, I might have to say, “In that case, pay me back for the sandwiches.”
When there’s BBQ ribs to be eaten, it’s every man for himself.
Wait, that’s sexist. Let me rephrase.
When there’s BBQ ribs to be eaten, it’s every mf’er for themselves.
Happy Labor Day!
Office email:
A friendly reminder that all refrigerators will be cleaned out this Sunday. Please take anything home that you do not want thrown out.
I do not want this carton of Macadamia Vanilla Bean ice cream to be thrown out.
Wait — does it matter if I brought the item in, or just that I don’t want it to be thrown out?
“There’s a slice of pizza missing,” my son announces.
When I got home from work, there were two slices left over from last night. I ate one and left one for him.
“I calibrated my appetite for two slices,” he says.
“The pessimist,” I say, “sees that there’s one slice missing. The optimist sees that there’s one slice left.”
Most people who’ve seen the way I eat are afraid to get their hands anywhere near my mouth but my owner sometimes feeds me treats out of his hand.
The treat can be in the fingers or in the palm. Either way, I can grab it almost faster than the human eye can detect, and I never bite the hand . . .
— Lightning
Put four fat chicks in one car and you can slow the normally brisk pace of the McDonald’s drive-thru lane down to an absolute crawl . . .
Hi everybody! It’s me, Lightning!
Dinner time is my favorite time of the day! Delicious food moves from the kitchen to the dining room table and if anyone turns their back on it for a second, I launch myself onto a chair and grab some.
Tonight I got a tasty chunk of salmon!
“Lightning is a bad dog,” the boy says. “Joseph’s dog never tries to eat their food.”
“Lightning is an alpha dog,” my owner says, “and alpha dogs eat first. Joseph’s dog is a pussy. He’s so far down the chain of dominance, there aren’t enough letters in the Greek alphabet to categorize him.”
— Lightning
Let this be a lesson to all of you regarding pugs and food . . .
— Lightning
MLB is rolling out an app that will allow fans at games to order concessions on their iPhone and have it delivered to their seats. I thought that option already existed, and it was called a wife.
My son bites into one of his donettes . . .
“Do you ever eat the whole donette in one bite?” I ask him, popping an entire donette into my mouth.
“No,” he says.
“You’re missing out.”
