Waffle House ... Because the Richies Are Too Lofty to Go

That was one fine breakfast at three in the morning and hell yes payday was a few days ago so this is a major treat and it was my treat for Yevette ... except for that godawaful music.  They had some emo puke singers and I have one requirement of chick singers ... that it's actually a chick singing rather than one of the castrati from the emo crowd of boys without penises.

And you know what they say about the size of a man's hands, right?

(Ed:  nothin' whatsoever)

Exactly right, Mr Kreskin, and have a fine serving of Waffle House hash browns.


It had switched to Metallica who we're reasonably sure are possessed of penises even when they're the pantywaists who killed Napster.  I said to the server, "Sir, I'm sorry you have to put up with this music all night."

He said, "Metallica is my favorite!"

Uh oh.  I replied, "It's probably going to be tough to disguise that I'm Hendrix era."

He laughed.  Moment was saved.


It was resolved on the way with Yevette there really is a difference between hash browns and home fries.  Don't ever say that up North because it's way too complicated for them.

(Ed:  and you?)

Remarkable perspicacity, dear Watson.

(Ed:  how many times have you said that in your life?)

Oh, a million or so but not much need for it these days (sob).


Things get so damn hard when you're old ... except anything you want to get hard.

Maestro, rim shot, please.


There was a bike outside the place and this one was owned by a real biker since it was obvious he did all the wrenching himself and it had one outstanding sound.  Yevette didn't know what RUBs are and here's the enlightenment:  Rich Urban Bikers.  You see them all the time with these fat slugs on brand-new maxed-out Harleys.

(Ed:  in other words, you?)

Rich?  Puh-leeze.  I'm well aware how much I suck as a mechanic and it's not for lack of trying.  For major mechanical joy, try changing the water pump for a car in the Winter and that's when it seems they always break.  If that doesn't fill you with the love of wrenching (it didn't) then it's never going to come.


There's an observation on Waffle House bikers as well since there are no men more defensive of freedom in America and they never, ever mount the bike from the right.

(Ed:  some of them are psycho Republicans too!)

Yah, but these ones have balls (larfs).


All most any biker wants is to be left alone.  Do that and you will probably never have a problem.  I rode with these guys sometimes and they were like many big men as they don't want to fight because they know they can leave you as paste on the sidewalk and they don't want to do it.  Don't fuck with them.  Invite them to a hog roast and they will probably come, tho.


I'm still wobbling quite a bit and make a spectacle of myself stumbling to seat myself accompanied by looks from the young 'uns which say without words, "Geez, sucks to be you, doesn't it!"

Actually, it doesn't, lil grasshopper, because I ain't worried about nothin' and I don't listen to the emo castrati.  I saw Stevie Ray live.  Eat your junior heart out.


I thought I might find the jukebox and play something which would make their skin crawl as much as whiny emo does for me and how about Barbra Streisand, huh?  How about that for a three a.m. treat for the drunkies.

(Ed:  they'd get melancholy and start crying!)

Mebbe so, mebbe so (larfs).