Lunch was Splash Damage.
Dinner was composed of three plates of pasta:
A special thanks to my dining companion, who was noted to be affecting a limp, perhaps to escape suspicion of the hardboiled detective hired by the manager to discover who had stolen the Olive Garden's famed jewels!
So named for its tendency to stain one's clothing with the splashing of five cheese marinara, this dish is not to be trifled with, and can really ruin your day if you get stuck with it in tight corners.
The unique thing about this particular combination of ingredients is that, unlike most other Olive Garden entrees, your breath will actually be fresher than it was before you ate it!
The sun rose, as it is wont to do, on another perfect week for pasta. I breathed in deeply, and took in the fresh air of my studio apartment. The smell of curry from my indeterminately ethnic neighbors was strong, as it always is, and whetted the blade of my appetite. Soon, I would feast...but first must come work.
I endure my day job with a sense of grim determination. It's just something to fill time between visits to the Olive Garden. But sometimes I wonder how the employees of the Olive Garden feel about their jobs. It seems unlikely that every morning trip there is as euphoric and magical an experience as my twice-daily treks are. But how can one drive to the Olive Garden without a feeling of giddy anticipation welling up within them? Maybe I'll find out as the challenge draws onward, but, for now, every morning is a new day for gorging.
Lunch was Penne Arcade.
Dinner was comprised of three plates of pasta:
Hey, man. Some days you just want to talk about pasta without a bunch of metaphors or whatever.
A special thanks to my dining companions, the Garcia family!
This is probably the only time I've had the lunch to-go portion actually look tasty after 20 minutes bathing in its own steam in the cracked pleather passenger seat of my 1993 Chevy Lumina.