i shouldn’t have even brought them home.  i slathered the butter all over them because that’s just instinctual, but the thought of eating them didn’t even cross my mind.  the waitress brought them to the table along with my meat parade slam or what have you, and i just started spreading the butter on them.  “just being polite to the chef” i thought.  why do they make so many and force them haphazardly on the customers?  “you gettin’ breakfast?–pancakes.  t-bone?–pancakes.  paying your check and gettin’ a mint?–you better believe it…pancakes.”  the server asked if i wanted a box for the pancakes.  i hesitated but ultimately gave in.  “if i don’t take these pancakes, the chef will fill my car door locks with batter” i thought.  chefs are an angry bunch.  all that heat and pressure.  i call them “diamonds” for that very reason.  regardless, it would’ve been my roommate’s door locks because he drove on account of i crashed my car.  shit, that would be unjust for him to have all that pancake batter all over his door, especially in this heat.  it would cook right on there!  pancake car, oh no!  pancar is coming!  the pigeons and gulls would be a constant nuisance.  downright dangerous if you ask me.  those gulls, they can have a wingspan as wide as a sedan windshield (my roommate has a honda accord).  but back to why you’re reading this.  i took the pancakes home and they’re in the fridge but i’m in my room and i’d have to get up and do this whole process just to reheat these pancakes that are gonna be unrewarding at best.  then i gotta go to ikea and get a milkcrate thingy to attach to my bike for carrying groceries.

30/04/2007
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