I have a thing with other people's food. I want it. Always.
My gastronomic habits are unapologetically a symptom of the modern malaise of always wanting more. But its not gluttony, it is sheer unarguable paranoia. Someone, somewhere might be eating something better than me.
I never understood the 'don't covet thy neighbour' concept when the crux of the issue undoubtedly lies with lunch. Anyone with sense would have realized that if everyone were worrying about important things, like a bite to eat, they'd be too full for any real shenanigans other than a lie down and a belly rub. You see, neighbours wife. Sorted.
I covet my neighbour's plate. Always have. The salad properly dressed, a chip far more golden and crisp than my own or that perfect, perfect sliver of cake. I could order exactly the same thing and it simply would not taste the same.
It's what you've got that I want. I know so perfectly how it would taste, how it would feel in my mouth, and how good it would look on my fork rather than yours. It is stealing. Often in daylight and in plain view. It is a gloriously inappropriate invasion of your personal and sensory space. And I love it.
Now, if we happen to go to dinner and you offer to share, no thank you.
As a regular restaurant reviewer, people often agree to a United Nations format of dipping rights. How dull. And entirely legal. Where is the frisson? The impropriety? The thrill?
Know this. Nowhere is safe. The Bunnings sausage sizzle, for example. Oh the illicit delight of scoffing down the last of your sausage in bread. Now that's a particularly authentic buzz.
I could dine out for hours on your look of outrage and hunger riddled frustration amidst the tools. And don't think you can stab me with a garden fork; I'm like Batman, but with Spiderman's sticky hands and the irrepressible hunger of Oliver Twist.
In other words freakin untouchable.
I've just been informed I'm offering nothing new here – something about having your cake and eating it too. Strangely the neighbour's wife has nothing to do with it.… Anyway, how about lunch? Say next Saturday?
Did you catch Katrina's last post?
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