Yeah, that's what I said, BITCH! I'm eating tuna salad for lunch, and I don't give a FUCK.
I have an office with a door, but even if I was in a cubicle with a thousand people around me, my own dietary whims come first. I've done "the stinky lunch calculus" and decided that the repellent grossness of my lunch to everyone else should take a backseat to the deliciousness of my lunch to me.
Yes, I know. Tuna fish salad looks, smells, and feels like wet cat food that's been smuggled inside the crotch of a female marathoner's spandex running shorts, dislodged at mile 23.5, and deposited onto a bed of lettuce.
AND?! What of it? It's delicious! What do you think this is? The high school cafeteria? I could give two shits what you think about my lunch. I ain't tryna sit at the cool kids' table!
I can't make tuna salad at home, because my whole family gags at the smell and the sight of it, which is why I'm getting it for lunch at work. Do you have a message or letter to give me? Do you want to talk about a project? Better hold your breath when you come into my office, homeslice! Because this scoop of tuna fish salad ALSO has red onions in it.
BOOOYAAH! Go hard or go home, I say. I have a toothbrush and toothpaste in my desk drawer and I'm not afraid to use them.
Nothing that's even remotely good for you actually smells good, and in the case of tuna fish, something that's somewhat good for you smells like a whale corpse found washed up and rotting off the coast of Japan.
As I was making this crucial lunch-time decision, I noticed a friend of mine doing the same thing. We eyed each other knowingly.
"You're just gonna own the tuna salad for lunch thing, aren't you?" she asked, a scoop of tuna already in her own lunch container. "Yup," I replied firmly.
"Me too," she nodded in clear solidarity. "Me too."