Good Morning, it's time for lunch! "Luncheez...!", that's right, it's 10:00 am and who'd think a one word sentence could send grown men running down the stairs, out the door and into the streets, especially when they just had breakfast an hour ago.
The 'who' is my least favorite part of the morning. 'The Lunch Lady', and she doesn't look like the one you remember from elementary school, there's no hair net, her uniform consists of short shorts (no matter the weather), very colorful yet small t-shirts, as much jewelry as Mr. T and she wouldn't be caught dead wearing sensible shoes, our lunch lady does her 'bizness' in heels...and she's got a great thing going. Kind of a Martha Stewart meets Jenni-on-the-block-on wheels. Finally I put my foot down, new rules apply...no more honking outside my house, from now on she had to call one of the guys on their cell phones to announce her arrival.
Like children chasing down the ice cream truck, her arrival sends them all running. They all know the drill, don't eat the 'surprise of the day', at least one will visit the bathroom 'a lot' during the rest of the day, they still have to eat the lunch their wives sent before they go home and speaking of wives, who's going to be the guy that gives Miss Jenni their cell phone number?
I'm not sure who actually gets 'the call' but they're still running out the door to have lunch before lunch and Miss Jenni is still selling her trademark "Luncheez" and I still haven't finished a cup of coffee before she arrives...maybe I'll beat her tomorrow.
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