-Frank, tell your mother
the truth, ’cause living a lie
will eat you up inside. Like that parasite I got
from eating sushi on Amtrak. ♪♪ Wanna see me shotgun this? ♪♪ -Oh, God. She means the pizza. -♪ Workin’ on my night cheese ♪ -I want to send my driver into
Manhattan to pick up dessert. Anybody know a good place
for cupcakes? -I think there’s a place —
-McEnroe, give me a break. I’m on it. 77th and Amsterdam.
68th and Columbus. 125th and President Clinton
Boulevard. Also, don’t overthink it.
Sara Lee, frozen. Unbelievable. -Look. Liz Lemon’s sandwich
is still on her desk. -Oh.
Taking Liz’s food is not good. -Where’s my mac-and-cheese?! -But as far as Liz Lemon knows,
her sandwich never came. ♪♪ -Huh. You guys are working hard
for once. ♪♪ Where’s my sandwich?! -Lutz made us do it!
-No, it was Frank! -It was you!
-I’m a patsy! -This is all my fault,
Miss Lemon. -I don’t know how, but you’re
gonna get me another sandwich. Or I’m gonna cut your face up
so bad, you’ll have a chin. You’ll all have chins! -Just leave the sandwich
and go through. -Leave the sandwich? Leave the sandwich. -Final boarding call
for Flight 254 to Cleveland. ♪♪ -You’re choosing the sandwich
over a guy. Hmm. That is less clichéd. -I can do it! I can have it all! ♪♪ ♪♪ -God, lady. You’re eating foil. -…wanted to buy you a drink. -Really? I already have a drink. Do you think he’d buy me
mozzarella sticks? -What is the matter with you?
-I don’t know! I’m just nervous and rusty. -Dennis is like those off-brand
Mexican Cheetos. -My Sabor de Soledad? I only have Spanish delis
in my neighborhood. -You know those are bad for you, but you keep stuffing them
in your mouth. Because it’s easier to do that
than to bother to eat well. -That’s a weak metaphor. Ah. Thank God. -Last lunch, no Lutz. Last lunch, no Lutz. Cupcake sandwich!
Cupcake sandwich! -Crap. Motherhood
has made me go soft. [ Elevator bell dings ] -Lemon, there you are. -Good morning, Jack.
Did you talk to Colleen? If you’re ordering me an edible
arrangement to say thanks, I’d prefer a meat one. [ Indistinct conversations ] -What is this? -All right! Cheesy blasters! ♪ You take a hot dog,
stuff it with some Jack cheese ♪ ♪ Fold it in a pizza ♪ ♪ You got cheesy blasters ♪ And then all the kids say,
“Thanks, Meat Cat!” And then Meat Cat flies away
on his, um, skateboard. -I can’t eat this. I’m a foodie. -Now, they have
hush puppies here, which you might know better
as a knish or a beignet. -I know what
you’re trying to do, Jack. You want to paint me
as this New York snob. Can I share with you
my world view? -I’d rather hear you sing
“Rocket Man” again. -All of humankind
has one thing in common — the sandwich. I believe that all anyone
really wants in this life is to sit in peace
and eat a sandwich. -What a surprise.
Your world view is food-based. -And who am I to say that
my delicious Italian sub is better than its
Stone Mountain equivalent? Which is why I will have… “the carp po’ boy
with extra chuckle.” ♪♪ -That woman you met
this morning in my office is not a colleague of mine.
We are lovers. -Ohh, that word bums me out unless it’s between the words
“meat” and “pizza.” -This is all so weird. It’s
making me sick to my stomach. -Lemon, it’s 8:00
in the morning. Are you eating
those Mexican cheese curls? -Hey, don’t knock
my Sabor de Soledad. I found a prize in here
the other day. I hope. -Now, tonight we have
a tasting at the caterer. It’s gonna be
a molecular gastronomy. The cake is a tasteless foam. -[demonic voice]
There’s no cake?!