8.8.09
Something I need to get off my chest. Or my abdomen, or anyplace that has a few too many pounds. Many of you know my affinity for Wal-Mart. It's is like a public swimming pool, in that you can't visit without coming away with a whole new regime of viruses ruling supreme in your body. Head lice, ringworm and just feeling generally like white trash. I have the same feeling about IHOP. My mom swears it's better than Denny's, and so we always go there for breakfast, and I get ill watching 700 pound humans pack away the all you can eat pancakes like giant trash compactors. I guess I haven't experienced that nauseating side of Denny's since I have only ever gone there after the bars close at 2 am and all of the obese people are either in bed or securely planted in their stretched out arm chairs in front of their tvs. So I will still have to vote for Denny's in the which-gross-place-are-we-going-for-breakfast poll. Anyway, I hate IHOP. And I hate even more, sitting there in shame while the 700 lb waiter (it is my theory that he was there so often to eat that they just offered him a job [since he obviously knew the menu better than any of the employees]) has to bring out extra pancakes for my brother because the ones they brought him were not 5 inches in diameter and you couldn't see the syrup that was supposed to be on them, and my mother had her hashbrowns redone three times because she asked for extra crispy and they brought her a brick of some unrecognizable substance and then a slimy pile of mush with something that looked suspiciously like sputum as a garnish, and then watch in horror as she panicked realizing the scrambled eggs were probably made with pancake mix and thus obliterating her gluten free diet. (No worries on this one - Nelson, the waiter, assured us that only the omelettes were made with pancake batter and sputum) I really get crabby sitting between my two youngest siblings and surrounded by a world of strangers that I have absolutely no interest in ever seeing again, much less getting to know on an intimate, I-know-how-you-like-your-eggs basis. But I survived. Barely.
There. Now I feel better. For the moment.
In my family it's not IHOP, it's Big Boy, but totally the same thing. All the lovley places we go leaving us wondering if we are also white trash for having presence there, or "just visiting" White Trash Land.
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