I Don't Know What a Bubbie Is
POSTED BY LINDSAY, GUEST CONTRIBUTOR
Sunday afternoon for me usually means a lunch date with my roommate Lauren. Lauren has been one of my best friends since my first year of college and I must say she's given me some of the funniest stories to share with others. Last year, during our last semester of school, Lauren went to visit her boyfriend in New York. Unfortunately, after she arrived at the Indianapolis airport check-in, she realized she had left her luggage in the kitchen of our house in Bloomington. Maybe you had to be there, but to me, the funniest part of the story is that she didn't realize she didn't have a bag until she got to check-in. She parked her car, took the shuttle to the airport and walked to baggage claim without realizing she did not have a bag. Lauren's lifestyle also has a lot of parallelism to a person suffering from obesity. Her typical dinner consists of two sandwiches from Potbelly's, followed by another dinner of some sort an hour later, followed by a lot of laying on the couch and finally a night of sleep.
I love her like a sister but you must understand that going out to lunch with her involves recognizing her habits that you must accept in order to ensure a successful meal. Usually I wake up about 10:00 the latest. I call my friend Ashley because I know she's been up since at least 7 and we chat for about an hour. Lauren rolls out of bed anywhere between 11:30 and 2, even though she went to bed at least four hours before me. We discuss where we are going to go to eat. My general rule tends to be that I want lunch over breakfast, simply because I'm partial to lunch. Lauren just wants to go somewhere with dip. I can honestly say that if dip were a food group, Lauren would be its most avid user.
The next step involves getting ready to go to lunch. For me, this means, brushing my teeth, putting on sweat pants and sometimes some blush. For Lauren, it means, taking Franky the hot dog on the porch and yelling at him to pee on a pad, plucking her eyebrows, doing two loads of laundry and going back to bed for an hour. So three hours later, we're at California Pizza Kitchen. Lauren hides behind the parking garage wall while she smokes a cigarette, afraid that her nursery school students will see her. I remind her that it's 4:00, and most four-year-olds eat lunch at 11:30, but she argues that you can never be too cautious.
We order as soon as we sit down and sit more or less in silence the entire meal. We've reached a point in our relationship where there are no longer awkward pauses and we prefer not to talk to each other. Lauren also hates to wait for the check. As soon as she's done, she's ready to go. Dessert? Nope. Just the check, now. We drive home in silence and Lauren goes to her room to take a nap. Lazzzy Sundays.
Sunday afternoon for me usually means a lunch date with my roommate Lauren. Lauren has been one of my best friends since my first year of college and I must say she's given me some of the funniest stories to share with others. Last year, during our last semester of school, Lauren went to visit her boyfriend in New York. Unfortunately, after she arrived at the Indianapolis airport check-in, she realized she had left her luggage in the kitchen of our house in Bloomington. Maybe you had to be there, but to me, the funniest part of the story is that she didn't realize she didn't have a bag until she got to check-in. She parked her car, took the shuttle to the airport and walked to baggage claim without realizing she did not have a bag. Lauren's lifestyle also has a lot of parallelism to a person suffering from obesity. Her typical dinner consists of two sandwiches from Potbelly's, followed by another dinner of some sort an hour later, followed by a lot of laying on the couch and finally a night of sleep.
I love her like a sister but you must understand that going out to lunch with her involves recognizing her habits that you must accept in order to ensure a successful meal. Usually I wake up about 10:00 the latest. I call my friend Ashley because I know she's been up since at least 7 and we chat for about an hour. Lauren rolls out of bed anywhere between 11:30 and 2, even though she went to bed at least four hours before me. We discuss where we are going to go to eat. My general rule tends to be that I want lunch over breakfast, simply because I'm partial to lunch. Lauren just wants to go somewhere with dip. I can honestly say that if dip were a food group, Lauren would be its most avid user.
The next step involves getting ready to go to lunch. For me, this means, brushing my teeth, putting on sweat pants and sometimes some blush. For Lauren, it means, taking Franky the hot dog on the porch and yelling at him to pee on a pad, plucking her eyebrows, doing two loads of laundry and going back to bed for an hour. So three hours later, we're at California Pizza Kitchen. Lauren hides behind the parking garage wall while she smokes a cigarette, afraid that her nursery school students will see her. I remind her that it's 4:00, and most four-year-olds eat lunch at 11:30, but she argues that you can never be too cautious.
We order as soon as we sit down and sit more or less in silence the entire meal. We've reached a point in our relationship where there are no longer awkward pauses and we prefer not to talk to each other. Lauren also hates to wait for the check. As soon as she's done, she's ready to go. Dessert? Nope. Just the check, now. We drive home in silence and Lauren goes to her room to take a nap. Lazzzy Sundays.
Labels: POSTED BY LINDSAY KAPLAN
posted by Lindsay at 2:38 PM
1 Comments:
Your friend Lauren sounds ravishing. Give her my number.
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