These weekends are starting to feel as long as a lunch break.

I bring a very “are you going to eat your pickle” vibe to lunch meetings.

Whoever came up with a 30 minute lunch break needs a 30 minute beating.

Starting the second half of your sandwich is like “hell yeah, baby, let’s run it back!”

That odd feeling when your lunch break is over and you still have to work for another 30 years.

My favorite exercise is a combination of a lunge and a crunch. It’s called lunch.

Combining breakfast and lunch: Brunch. Combining wine and dinner: Winner.

“Bye, have a great day, I’ll see you after school”, I tell the orange in my kid’s lunch.

I lost my job at NASA Mission Control today. I misheard when they said, “It’s lunch time.”

I’m not saying Lois Lane is a bad investigative journalist, but my friend Greg didn’t wear glasses to work yesterday and I recognized him by lunch time.

Keeping a picture of my bed in a locket around my neck and staring at it longingly on my lunch break.

You either get a kid who eats like a bottomless pit, or you get one that when asked what they want for lunch answers “No thanks, I had lunch yesterday.”

The sandwich I made for lunch didn’t even make it until 10am.

People on diet aren’t mad at you. They’re mad at their lunch.

I wish I was as tired in bed at night as I am after lunch at work.

Plants are like “I’ll have a light lunch.”

Not much is worse than that feeling of going back to work after a lunch, or a vacation, or just going to work in general.

One day you’re 18 eating pizza for every lunch, then suddenly you’re 30 and eating salad with celery and kale juice.