Yum!
13 September 1998
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Yum!
13 September 1998
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I'm about to be kicked off the BBS I'm dialed into to get here, so shut up already and get on with it, okay okay.
Today's gold star and a big kiss on the cheek goes to Sparky's 24-Hour Diner, where I had a perfect steak and eggs brunch today. With excellent timing, I might add, it did a lot to restore my trust in going outside. The toast was actually toasted and actually buttered - doesn't sound like much, does it? But it seems to be beyond the capabilities of most other places around here. The hash browns overcame a few initial demerits for having strange orange and green bits in them, by being of all things thoroughly cooked! Another art I thought had been lost. The eggs were done just right, the steak was a genuine steak and not a flattened-out roadkill piece of beef-like substance. They even brought Worcestershire sauce to the table without my having to ask.
In a way, now, I'm almost reluctant to ever go back. I don't want to contaminate the memory of it. Wonderful, wonderful meal.
Otherwise, an uneventful day. Finally did laundry, and wondered again as I always do why I put it off so long, when it's really not such a big deal. I'm sure a few simple explanations are occurring to you. Trust me, the words "lazy" and "nutcase" are not unknown to me.
More appalling coverage of l'affaire Clinton. I know we live in a hotbed of overtherapied goonballness here in the San Francisco area, but do they have to publish the evidence of it so prominently? I notice that what gets most buried are reactions from ordinary people, who are still uncooperatively insisting that they might not want to lend Clinton any money or hire him as a babysitter but, really, aren't there better things to do? Personally, I'm much more concerned about whether Sammy Sosa will get to 62 home runs this season, too. Not that Mark McGuire isn't a nice guy and all, but Sammy deserves his turn in the spotlight.
Besides! Cubs! They still might make the playoffs! Sorry, Giants, but you're up against more than just a team here. It's a great American tradition of losing tragically. How can I not support that?
Willfully blind self-indulgent nebbish or amusingly quirky old coot? And how bout that local sports team? Discuss among yourselves.
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All names are fake, most places are real, the
author is definitely
unreliable but it's all in good fun. Yep.
© 1998-1999 Lighthouse for the Deaf. All rights reserved and stuff. The motto at the top of the page is a graffito I saw on Brunswick Street in Melbourne. | ||||
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