Completely off-topic and totally hilarious:
4:36 p.m. I realize that my shoulders have, of their own volition, begun slipping up and down to the tune of “Are You Gonna Be My Girl” by Jet. I am now an active participant in the casual fun TGI Fridays atmosphere.
It is really an absurd idea to test the limits of a promotion called “Endless Appetizers”:
Ten hours later, my editor, Max Read, messages me to outline the conditions this exercise must meet:
- I will not take advantage of the TGI Friday’s wifi, read a book, or go to sleep.
- I will stay at least six hours past the restaurant’s 11 a.m. opening time.
- I will consume mozzarella sticks with the voraciousness of bacteria feasting on the muscle tissue of a corpse. (This is not so much a condition as a given.)