Live kitty cam from the road. Or live from “le petite maison du waffle.”
From the inbound mail catalog:
Round a-bout, 6/25/04 1:07 PM, ya’ll said:
> Speaking of reading, I’ve been reading your web
> journal for several days running now. You’ve proved to
> be a useful tool for procrastination during work hours
> — I’m very appreciative.
I have my useful moments.
From the reading list:
“And another thing: I cannot accurately predict your future. We need to get that straight, too. I can’t, no psychic can, and any that claim they can are swindlers.”
The character Q-Jo in Tom Robbins’ novel Half Asleep in Frog Pajamas (p. 75).
Back at the trailer park:
Between Friday’s thunderstorms, I was standing outside, and a Pisces neighbor came ripping in into his slot, took one look at me, and hollered, “Kramer! It’s raining! Put on some damn clothes!”
Some people just don’t understand comfort.
Meanwhile, back at the Chambre De Gaufre (it’s French for Waffle House):
So we all got together for our group meeting at the Chambre De Gaufre with a somewhat larger than expected turnout, especially, considering, the Waffle House doesn’t serve liquor. Or alcohol. Our server’s name was Michelle and she’s a Libra. Plus, as our crowd can be a bit unruly, she was still good-natured through the whole ordeal.
Tim claimed he’d been eating with designs on meeting his approved dietary concerns, for two days prior to this adventure. So had I, for that matter. So I showed up ravenous. It’s old (net) folklore, one does not go to a Waffle House for a fine dinner experience. Order a waffle, it’s on the name, stick to what they really well.
And they do. Did. I remember, at the end of the evening, the server asked, “Did you get everything you got?”
But I had a total of three Waffle House waffles, so I was in some sort of blood-sugar-I-don’t-know-what stupor. Feeling more than silly, that’s for sure.
I was babbling like an overgrown-child. Wait, I’m like that anyway.
Since none of this will make any sense, Bubba Sean did point to the “Casa de Waffle” picante sauce on the counter, “Here, you need some of this.”
(best I can do with a jittery phone cam)
