Okay, to avoid the schism that this new fad is going to create, I will first address and explain why I like some of the things that I do before I go into the things I don’t understand about my friends.

Diners: “A Clean Well Lit Place” Hemingway says it best. I’ll be posting this short story as soon as I get my hands on a copy so you may all be enlightened. We don’t go to diners for the great cuisine. We’re not idiots. We go to diners (as opposed to snotty, wanna be espresso bars) to be, well, in a clean, well lit place late a night. I’d rather sit around jabbering with my husband and friends over shitty coffee and french toast than sit around my house trying to figure out whether or not to fry my brain with X-files or Southpark. Real bars don’t appeal to me because I have no fascination with inebriation and get deathly ill from alcohol. I also cannot enjoy my friends when I can’t hear what they’re saying over the bad music filtered through speakers that are mostly static and bass and few vocals anyway. I like to sit in a comfortable booth and be waited on by someone who knows me, what I want, can tell what I want by my mood, can make me laugh, and knows my name. The Cheers theme song is one of my guides to life. I love being a regular. I love walking in the door at Denny’s, grabbing my own menu, and sitting down wherever the hell I want to because every waiter on duty and the manager don’t care, they’re just happy to see me. This also guarantees me exquisite service. The food might not be great all the time, but I don’t go for the food. I go to sit there and do whatever the hell I feel like doing for hours because I can because the waitstaff loves me. And there’s something to be said for a greasy plate of chicken fried steak and eggs at three in the morning. Smokin will agree that’s it’s better than chamomille tea for putting you gently to sleep. You just can’t get comfy like that at Pappadeaux. Or Starbucks. I can’t sit outside all night in a rickety wire mesh chair sipping coffee that’s as bad or worse than a diner’s anyway. When I want great coffee I go to Luby’s. That’s right. Luby’s. And I’m not going to explain the joys of the cafeteria - you either get it, or you don’t.

PS Haggis: Triggs Humble Inn is a restaurant and a catering service. Cake platforms on the counter do not a diner make. You sat in the front room. There are two other rooms, the back being the main part of the restaurant. Did I mention that they’re a catering company? When’s the last time you saw Denny’s pancakes at a wedding?

I agree with Psyguy on wine wholeheartedly. Blech. Why do I want to drink something that makes my mouth dry and causes every muscle in my body to cringe at the sour impact?

We eat late because I grew up eating dinner at 8:00 or later and when Sean get’s home at 6:00 he wants to chill for awhile. Then we forget to go for awhile, then we can’t figure out what to eat for another thirty minutes, and so on. We have tried the whole eating at home thing, but what happens is, I thaw something out and then Sean comes home and says “Chicken? I had chicken for lunch. Can you make it tomorrow?” Tomorrow rolls around and “Chicken? With what? Broccoli? No way. Let’s get Taco Bell.” And so on and so on until the chicken is spoiled or goes back in the freezer not to resurface for some time to come because Dean calls the next night to go to Strack’s and then it’s the weekend, and so the cycle continues. I think I’m going to start shopping on a day to day basis like the French and then maybe we’ll eat at home more. But I can’t fathom eating before 7:00 anyway. My land! Wouldn’t you be hungry again later if you did that?

Also mostly agree with Psyguy about Beck too. I like a couple of songs off the new album, but before I absolutely cringed whenever I heard him.

I am 100% behind Epiphany on hair care and the mall. Wash it, dry it, Fantastic Sams is good enough for me. Working retail takes the fun out of shopping. I look at new fashions and wonder if the jokes on me. I remember working at Express when jodhpurs came back in style, and when we pulled them out of the box we laughed at how ugly they were and laughed even harder when people actually bought them, even though we tried to steer them towards something more flattering and less ridiculous.

Seinfeld is like Kids In the Hall. Not neccessarily all that funny, but once you’ve seen the episode twice or three times, the joke just keeps getting better.

Well, those are my defenses, and tomorrow I shall impart my thoughts on things my friends do that I don’t understand.