There was milk punch and spiced whisky, a smell of goose and maukin roasting on the spit.

The worst case for productivity is probably when two perfectly equivalent ways exist. Buridan's ass notoriously starved to death in just such a worst-case situation; groups of programmers may not go quite as far, but are sure to waste lots of time & energy deciding.

[…] a hot spot for beautiful people who come to drink flirtinis and choose from a dizzying array of seafood dishes.

the night condenses into me, allays the bonds of my serotinal blight. Count Dracula and I share in this flight: we seek moist shadows underneath the quays, in marrow-darkness bid our bodies twist.