Destination Nom-Nom.

"I am hungry. Let's do breakfast. Wait. Breakfast was hours ago. I think it's brunch at this point. Shit, it's 2 pm. We're beyond lunch. Hot damn! We're finally aboard the dunch train like other fine sophisticated people! If you want nom-noms, you will get aboard this train as I am the conductor. Also, because I know for a fact you are allergic to the pots and pans. Have your tickets and passes ready, we are now leaving the station. Destination nom-noms. The alternative is slinner, and that is just fucking stupid."

Is the conversation I thought I had today with my husband. This is in official dispute.

"You rolled out of bed with drool down one side of your face, coughed out a lung, stared at the clock beside the bed for a few moments, mumbled something, and then you raised your arms above your head and yelled 'TEAM DUNCH' before going back to bed."

So over-the-counter medication has gotten a lot better recently or he's a dirty filthy liar. It could go either way.

Especially since I didn't get my damn dunch.

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