Over the past few days, I have had the pleasure of keeping company with some of the best orthopedic hand surgeons in the country. Yes, that’s 3 levels of specialization. I feel like I just Inceptioned myself. I’ve gone 3 levels deep into an obscure surgical specialty that only compulsive door openers and explosives enthusiasts will ever meet in their lifetimes. Yet here I was, rubbing elbows among our generations greatest replant surgeons.  And during these past few days, at the various social events, aside from stifling yawns discussing the latest 3mm screw that is sure to surpass the previous 3mm screw in technological advancement, I heard the term “foodie” used in response to interrogations of pastimes and hobbies. These are highly intelligent, extremely serious people that used this term with fervor typically reserved for presidential election years. They could have been talking about Jimmy Fallon’s exciting finger avulsion injury (warning: under no circumstances google finger avulsion injury. you can’t unsee that shit.) Nope, “foodie” came up time and again as the hobby these near geniuses boast about.

So what you’re saying is, you enjoy eating, seeking out new and interesting foods as a way to increase your culinary pleasure and experience?

huh. you don’t say. me too! But what I don’t do, is walk around talking about eating tasty foods as a way to define my social class or establish superiority. I get it. You’re smart and went to school for a while and are now extremely exhausted saving lifestyles. Congratulations.

Here’s a picture of a building.

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