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Ah, Friday. I am about to start working for the evening, but thought I’d pop in here and say hello.

To be fair, I wouldn’t have as much work this afternoon if I hadn’t gone out to lunch with a friend. A lunch that kind of sucked, food-wise. It’s a decent local restaurant that I’ve always been happy with but today the service was average and my curried egg salad sandwich was more salad, if you take into account the lettuce-to-egg salad ratio.Highly underwhelming. But whatever. We got to sit outside on a beautiful—and very warm—summer day in Mpls.

And as I was enjoying the weather and (less so) my food I noticed another waitperson bringing a meal out to a nearby table. Which wouldn’t normally catch my eye except this waitperson, a rather largish gal (which also normally wouldn’t catch my eye) was hauling out two plates on one arm.

A feat which I must say I always am amazed by. I’d be dropping shit everywhere if I tried that.

Anyway, the plate nearer to her body had some sort of wrap angled vertically on the plate in just the right way so that with every step she took the food would react accordingly and smack right into her boob. And I’m watching this tragedy in motion, thinking— Well, mainly, “thank god that’s not my food.”

But also thinking I really hoped the table for which the boobed food was destined hadn’t noticed. Because really, how do you send that one back?