Doughnuts are the best. The goddamn best. Don’t think so? Then you have a hole in your head. Kinda like how a doughnut has a hole in it. But you probably don’t taste as good. (If you do, leave your name and number below, so my lonely cat-people readers can call you. Hook-ups TONIGHT, Yo!)
Delicious, but dangerous. Not only is it very rich, you might die of a coronary. At least you will die happy.
Pretending to text to avoid someone: epic winning!
Again, I have to say that Big Man makes better french toast. The flavour was lacking, or should I say that there was flavour, but just not the french toast flavour I expected.
(Insert low-brow joke about restaurant name representing customer service attitudes here.) I guess wearing your sweats may not be the best idea after all.
As we wheeled our way through the alley behind Waffle House, a crack whore was buying some rocks from a dealer. Nice. Oh New West, you never disappoint.
My friend Victoria sent me a text a few days ago. Apparently I needed to try breakfast at “Poultry in Motion” in White Rock. Huh? What kind of name is that? Sounds like a butcher’s shop or a meat market that deals exclusively in fowl. Do I really want to eat breakfast from a place called Poultry in Motion?