Nighthawks at the diner. There’s only one situation in which Tami can look so tortured, and it isn’t posing for a Tom Waits album cover. I’ll leave that to your imagination.

God, Edward Hopper is shuddering right now. (Probably not followed by a sense of relief, either.)

No, but I love this picture. Despite its being next door and even called Famous, we always overlook the diner down the street as a lunch option. It wasn’t until I came in one morning during a very, very bad week hungover with a container of french fries to go with my breakfast sandwich that we realized they had the best in town.

So, Tami is contemplating the relief her fries will bring. I, on the other hand, am contemplating how such a nice Jewish girl can order a reuben on WHITE BREAD when RYE IS AN OPTION. Sacrilege! She’ll have to turn in her card.

Maybe it was an act of self-hatred, in which case — okay, back in the club.

October 7, 2009  

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