I want to be honest about something. Because, well, honesty is the best policy. Okay? So here goes nothing… I heart breakfast. Like… Really heart breakfast. I heart it so much that I serve it 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. There’s nothing that makes me happier than eggs, toast, bacon and hashbrowns with a large glass of OJ. Oh, except for puppies. Real ones. With their floppy ears and puppy paws. I love how big their paws are in relation to the rest of their bodies. SO CUTE. My friend Jeff just got a new puppy. He named it Nava, clearly ignoring my request for its name to be Denny Jr. Whatever. It’s still cute. We took it to the park the other day, you know, the one by the cul-de-sac off of Jones St? Nava was afraid to step out from under a tree into the sun. IT WAS SO ADORABLE! How are animals THAT cute? HOW?! Seriously. OH, sorry… What was I saying? Right. Breakfast. I heart it.
it is sunday night. maybe you are dreading tomorrow morning—returning to school, work, the grind. somewhere nearby, a denny’s glows, waiting to comfort you. there is no sunday night sadness at denny’s.
Keep having that dream where I’m surfing just below the gorgeous crest of a twenty-foot wave of syrup, curling in slow motion, moving toward the golden-brown beach, with little pancakes instead of sand.
…But Dionysus had another son. Dennycules, the God of Late Night/Early Morning Munchies. Dennycules was mocked by the other gods for his love of all-hours snacking. Realizing his happiness and hunger were more suited for the mortal realm, Dennycules gave up his god-like powers and status so that he could live on Earth and open a chain of 24/7 Diners. He dubbed these such diners, “Denny’s”.
You just haaaaaaaaaad to have one more. And that one more turned into a couple more. And those two transformed themselves into three more. Next thing you knew you were passed out, cloaked thickly in a cologne of poor decisions and shame. The words “pace yourself” have never been in your vocabulary. At least not when it comes to chocolate. But it’s okay. Even though your stomach is screaming and your eyes are bloodshot. Even though you feel sluggish and you’re hating everything, we’ll still accept you. Come into Denny’s and have a seat, we’ll put the coffee on. Get comfortable, eat some good food. Wait it out. Because as we all know, the only thing that can cure an Easter Chocolate Holiday Hangover… is time.
Do French Toast toppings have opinions? Do they like to be chosen? I mean… Science tells us they don’t. But what if Science is wrong? What if my chocolate chips are all, “choose me, choose me!” and I’m all, “nope, peanut butter chips, buddy.”