Takeout
Ah, takeout. Isn’t it nice to get all snuggly on the sofa and order food from your phone? The anticipation as you watch your order go from ‘order received’ to ‘cooking’ to ‘on the way’. The doorbell ringing. Receiving your pizza from a surly, damp man who has just peddled his way through a monsoon at 11 o’clock at night. Eating your $30 pizza in the span of a single ad break in front of the TV. Staring at the empty box on the coffee table, wondering how many calories you just consumed. Checking the online menu, and reading that you just ate three days’ worth of saturated fat in one sitting. Sinking into the couch as your stomach begins to gurgle and you’re forced to undo not only the button on your jeans, but your entire fly. Bliss.