I Don’t Know, Jeff, Are We Ready To Order?

You know, Jeffrey, even the waitress is getting a little fed up watching you flip-flop between every item on the menu. And it’s her job to be here. I’m here because I want to be. What exactly is it that you’re doing? I have my order memorized, and you’re still farting around looking at appetizers. Where’s your fucking head at? This is GAME TIME.


What do you mean, “We just got here?” We didn’t just get here – it’s been four minutes and 28 seconds. HUH-DURRR! “What’s the rush? We’re just having fun” – is that all this meal is to you? Just a little bit of fun? This meal is more than just casual fun, thank you very much. A lot of time, effort, and meltdowns went into making this date happen. You know, that’s the problem with this generation; nothing’s ever good enough. Nobody can just appreciate what’s sitting in front of them with sad eyes, expiring ovaries, and a bloodstream coursing with amphetamines. What? It’s a metaphor.


Is it variety you want, Jeffrey? Just wanna explore your options? A little of this, a little of that? Is that it? You feel like if you order the pork shank, you’re missing out on a sweet little filet of sole or something? It’s not like the waitress is asking you to marry the goddamn pork shank. I think we can all agree you’ve had plenty of time to decide. Maybe you just need to fucking commit already. Everyone agrees that the pork shank is literally the nicest most beautiful fucking girl in the whole office. Is your brain stupid? Pick a food.


Now you’re thinking of getting the BURGER?! Are you kidding me? Burgers give people salmonella so bad they can’t be ballerinas anymore – I read it in the FUCKING NEW YORK TIMES, Jeffrey. But you know what, do what you want. It’s your life. Just think about how you’ll feel tomorrow morning. Guilty. Dirty. Gross. Yeah, maybe you should think about that before you fuck that burger.



What about the chicken, Jeffrey? What’s wrong with chicken? Everybody likes chicken. Your mother likes chicken. Don’t you want to make your mother happy? She’s getting old, you know. I mean, what do the other dishes have that the chicken doesn’t? Higher protein content? Lower fat? A nicer rack? Appearance isn’t everything, okay?! Maybe you don’t love chicken right now. Maybe you just need a few more weeks, I mean minutes, but I think you could really grow to love the chicken. In the future. Someday. It could happen. And anyway, that lasagna might look good, but it’s definitely not freaky enough to milk your prostate. What? It isn’t!


All right, let’s get a goddamn move on here. The waitress has other tables too, you know. You’re not the only customer she’s holding out for. What? You’re not! She’s desirable. She doesn’t live to just serve you and your needs.


Oh… so you’re really gonna go with the burger, then? That sloppy, greasy, 22-year-old burger? Is that really what you want? Is it really? But are you sure? You seem unsure. Maybe you should give it another think. No really, I insist. No, it’s totally fine! What’s the rush? The waitress can wait. It’s fine. We’re all fine. Everything’s fine.


Hey lady, back the fuck off. WE’RE NOT READY TO ORDER.