P.D. Johnson's Dog Day Deli

Once more from Preston Center, I bring you news of fine cuisine and wacky atmosphere. This time, I'm reporting live from P.D. Johnson's, which believe it or not is located catty-corner to Wang's Chinese food (which should, in turn, be adjacent to both Woody's Lumberyard and Big Willy's Caulking Supplies). Sharing a wall with a 24 hour fitness, this little deli is a beacon of lunch salvation in a sea of Chipotle burritorias and Sonic Burgererias. Upon entering you are enveloped in a soothing wave of semi-titillating "Johnson" references and clever signs that may or may not be authentic (For example, the "Now Hiring: No Irish" rusted tin sign...ah, if only today's prejudices could be so well-founded). Although faced with several Cold Johnson, Hot Johnson, and Nearly-Foot-Long options, I quickly narrowed it down to either a "Heavy D," a corned beef variety with a curiously named 007 sauce, or "The Bone," which included a luxurious combination of cranberry sauce and cream cheese.
Now, something to consider when you inevitably end up choosing to eat at P.D. Johnson's is the entertainment. Pinned to the walls are several articles from The Onion, a brutally honest news source. Piled on the counter are practically current magazines for every interest and a pile of crossword puzzles copied out of recent newspapers (oh 47 down, why do you haunt me still?). I feel as though the needs of my intellect are as carefully considered at Johnson's as the needs of my belly.
Speaking of belly needs, the pot of gold at the end of this lunchmeat rainbow is filled with P.D. Johnson's brownies. Oh god. Give me a moment to reflect...
The brownies have gradually improved over time, becoming more and more undercooked (less and less cooked??) until they evolved into their current glory: an entirely uncooked puddle of brownie batter poured onto a square of saran wrap. This soupy nectar is then lovingly wrapped and molded into a rectangular prism resembling something more solid. This is not only efficient for the time-hoarding bigwigs at P.D.'s, but beneficial to today's learned (and startlingly sexy) brownie consumers --such as myself.
Major Caveat: If you order water, they charge you 23 cents for "cup and ice" even if you assure those bastards that you hate ice.
Related Bonus: The tap water charge absolutely eliminates the nasty guilt feeling usually associated with filling your "water" cup with Sierra Mist. Thesis Statement: Being a female patron of P.D. Johnson's doesn't get you free water, but it sure does make you feel uncomfortable while ordering up a 6 inch Bone.

Cosmic Cafe

The combination of vegetarian food, eastern religious figures and meditation practices has never been so hokey or super tasty as it is at Cosmic Cafe and Meditation Center on fabulous Oak Lawn Avenue. I have never felt so mock-spiritual in my life, and that includes my brief stint as a nun. Plus, after 5 straight hours of intense Dance Dance Revolution competition, there's nothing like a mango lassie to soothe my aching ankles.
So, Manimal, Jesus, and I once again visited this beacon of holy treats and sassy, if at all, service. The Manimal ordered the Taco Trinity from the "Oscillating Big Bang Entrees" section of the menu without a hint of irony and I believe he enjoyed it immensely, as evidenced by the beams of light pouring out of his eyes upon completion.
The Messiah and I bypassed the "Sidereal Allah Carte" menu, despite its having the silliest name and headed straight for the "Celestial Light Offerings" which were probably the heaviest items on the menu, despite their moniker. The Shiva pizza refreshed my DDR spirit with an exciting blend of peppers mushrooms and was that squash? Decidedly deit-astic. My Lord and Savior replenished his infinite strength and wisdom with A Fold in Thyme (what most inferior restaurants might have referred to as a wrap). He topped His meal off with a large-ass Mango Lassie and, in his enlightened state of digestion claimed, "This Lassie puts the ASS back in LIE." Holla', Jesus.
Main Idea: Get hip; eat Indian-esque food named after holy beings. Madonna would be so proud. Plus, an entire menu of vegetarian-friendly food is pretty tough to find in Dallas, so job well done.
Auxiliary Idea: Whether you eat meat or not, whether you enjoy sitar music or think it's for whiny babies and the Beatles, whether you're old or young, whether you get your saris from Bombay or Gap, the waitresses here will NOT pay any attention to you whatsoever. (Tip them anyway, assholes. They have bills, too. [Theirs are just sassier than ours.])