It’s not a good thing when a gun-shot is the most predictable outcome of a meeting, but that’s the way it had always been with Bob and Larry; they just couldn’t express affection any other way.
I used to work as a chef in a chain Italian restaurant. I took the whole chef thing very seriously, and was very snooty about the whole thing.
As you can see from the title, this is very much a repeat. But the point still remains: I don’t have many friends, and I never really have.
I just don’t see the point of making the bed after I get up. The Sisyphean aspects of the pointless task do not worry me; such is the nature of our miserable human existence.
I didn’t mention to her my paralysing fear of talking to people; she wouldn’t have understood me.
There are two kinds of people in this world: those who can do things in moderation, with self-control and will-power, and those who actually exist.
A few years ago my partner and I realised that we were done with simple carbohydrates: Pasta had failed us too often; I could never cook white rice to save my life; and spuds had just become background noise.