Since assuming a job that actually requires me to drive (insert horrified gasp here) each day, I have become quite the fan of eating out for lunch. Gone are the days of walking home to eat peanut butter-and-jelly sandwiches and lie on my couch from 12:02 to 12:58 p.m. In their stead are five opportunities each week to grab some fast food and either run a few errands (i.e., go tempt myself by looking at movies at Best Buy) or to dig deeper into a book that I have yet to polish off.*
*As a result, the first 147 pages of Stephen King's "The Stand" now have me terrified of simple sneezes.
Yesterday exhibited all the traits of a beautiful day. (Sunny? Check. Temperature higher than 63 but not exceeding 72-degrees? Check.) As a result, I steered my mode of vehicular conveyance (hint: it's not a rickshaw) through the Vista drive-thru and then had a nice picnic lunch at the City Park... It was gorgeous.
Today, with the sky weeping meteorologist-predicted tears, I chose to confine my dining to an indoor locale. After much inner debate, I decided that the International House of Pancakes would be the day's lunch destination. This was after I remembered that my passport was not required for entry.
At IHOP (as the kids call it), I ordered up the quick two-egg breakfast and, while I waited for such a feast to be prepared, cracked open my book. After all, what's more appetizing than reading a fictional account of a deadly plague? Opportunities to read in peace, however, were quickly disturbed as I discovered that a guy at the table across the way was one of the loudest speakers in the world. The guy, sporting cargo shorts, a goatee, and a false sense of superiority, was pretty much the funniest guy in the world. After all, everything he said drew laughs... Granted, quite often he was the only one laughing at his comments, but I'm not sure the scorekeepers discriminate against such when keeping their stats. He told some yarn about the top pancake needing to face east* and laughed heartily. He followed with some comment about his kids and chuckled away. Were his comments actually funny? Of course they were... Just ask him.
*Yes, I was as confused as you are right now.
Luckily, those in the IHOP kitchen were efficient and my food arrived relatively quickly, giving me the opportunity to concentrate on eating rather than listening to goatee man's Def Comedy Jam.
Unluckily, as I ate, I noticed something that... wait for it... I didn't understand. On my table sat an advertisement for IHOP iced coffee. I have no qualms with the pancakery offering iced coffee to its customers, just with their wording on the advertisement. The ad mentioned that three flavors of the frosty beverage are available: mocha, vanilla, and coffee. That's right. All the coffee-lovers in the world need not worry; IHOP offers coffee-flavored ice coffee. I'm sure this makes sense to some, but to me it falls in the land of unnecessary repetition. Why not name the flavor "original"? Or "classic roast"? I realize the coffee world has been Starbucktualized to a nearly unrecognizable point, but have we really reached the point that we have to clarify that a coffee beverage is available in a "coffee" flavor?
Because my mind loves such mindless debates, I pondered this throughout the rest of my meal. Or at least until the Steve Martin of IHOP customers walked by the waiter on his way out and said, in a somewhat deprecating tone, "Nice job, buddy" and then yukked it up as he walked toward the door.
Man, that guy was hilarious.
*As a result, the first 147 pages of Stephen King's "The Stand" now have me terrified of simple sneezes.
Yesterday exhibited all the traits of a beautiful day. (Sunny? Check. Temperature higher than 63 but not exceeding 72-degrees? Check.) As a result, I steered my mode of vehicular conveyance (hint: it's not a rickshaw) through the Vista drive-thru and then had a nice picnic lunch at the City Park... It was gorgeous.
Today, with the sky weeping meteorologist-predicted tears, I chose to confine my dining to an indoor locale. After much inner debate, I decided that the International House of Pancakes would be the day's lunch destination. This was after I remembered that my passport was not required for entry.
At IHOP (as the kids call it), I ordered up the quick two-egg breakfast and, while I waited for such a feast to be prepared, cracked open my book. After all, what's more appetizing than reading a fictional account of a deadly plague? Opportunities to read in peace, however, were quickly disturbed as I discovered that a guy at the table across the way was one of the loudest speakers in the world. The guy, sporting cargo shorts, a goatee, and a false sense of superiority, was pretty much the funniest guy in the world. After all, everything he said drew laughs... Granted, quite often he was the only one laughing at his comments, but I'm not sure the scorekeepers discriminate against such when keeping their stats. He told some yarn about the top pancake needing to face east* and laughed heartily. He followed with some comment about his kids and chuckled away. Were his comments actually funny? Of course they were... Just ask him.
*Yes, I was as confused as you are right now.
Luckily, those in the IHOP kitchen were efficient and my food arrived relatively quickly, giving me the opportunity to concentrate on eating rather than listening to goatee man's Def Comedy Jam.
Unluckily, as I ate, I noticed something that... wait for it... I didn't understand. On my table sat an advertisement for IHOP iced coffee. I have no qualms with the pancakery offering iced coffee to its customers, just with their wording on the advertisement. The ad mentioned that three flavors of the frosty beverage are available: mocha, vanilla, and coffee. That's right. All the coffee-lovers in the world need not worry; IHOP offers coffee-flavored ice coffee. I'm sure this makes sense to some, but to me it falls in the land of unnecessary repetition. Why not name the flavor "original"? Or "classic roast"? I realize the coffee world has been Starbucktualized to a nearly unrecognizable point, but have we really reached the point that we have to clarify that a coffee beverage is available in a "coffee" flavor?
Because my mind loves such mindless debates, I pondered this throughout the rest of my meal. Or at least until the Steve Martin of IHOP customers walked by the waiter on his way out and said, in a somewhat deprecating tone, "Nice job, buddy" and then yukked it up as he walked toward the door.
Man, that guy was hilarious.
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