well, now i want pancakes (an extra slapback for sunday)

while looking for the fifteen year old bit for friday, i found this sixteen year old number…

…and since it didn’t fall on the ninth, i didn’t run it. but it’ll do for today since a lot folks go out for breakfast on sunday:

03/10/2002: “late nite service”

so, last night i drove up to dallas to see rob zombie. GREAT show, and i’ve got that post-show tunnel hearing working right now, which kinda sucks. add to that the fact that i drove to dallas and BACK the same night, just two days after i drove back and forth from tulsa in 48 hours, so i still hadn’t caught up from that as far as energy levels are concerned, and i’m feeling a bit tired. you know you’re old (or worn out) when it’s 7:30, you have a couple of invitations out there for plans tonight, you’re mere feet from your bed (which is unfortunately naked woman-less) and you’re still thinking, “hmmmm…tempting”.

the trip had everything….fun and friends (the show, and junior and michelle, respectively); car crashes (the drunk fucks in the ford ranger we missed by about four feet after they crashed into the center divider right in front of us…nobody was injured, but that kinda thing will wake you up at 5:15 am), and drunk blondes (the girl who hopped into junior’s side of the booth at ihop to share her views on the upcoming sxsw music fest while reaking of well vodka….living proof (not meant to be a bad liquor pun) that most $1.00 drink specials are NOT a good thing)

speaking of ihop, i made an observation last night. in my lines of work (working concerts, DJing at clubs, and being an unemployed loser) i have, on many occasions, eaten a 2:00am meal. at ihop. or jim’s. or the kettle. or whatever. taco cabana and hippy joints don’t count. i’m talking about the common places. not the unique places in your town. the chains. the places cops go. these have four distinct wait people. there may be others, but they’re just filler…these are the REAL flap jack slingers.

1. The Granny – that old woman, who’s sweet, kind, usually kinda round, and reminds you of your grandmother. or she’s thinner, smokes WAY too much, and obviously has since LONG before i was born, yet somehow has alluded death. the kids have moved out, the husband’s gone (possibly from second-hand smoke), and she just basically needs something to do with some public interaction; so here she is. always sweet, occasionally happy, and ALWAYS hopped up on coffee to deal with the hour. they would have put her on days, but she doesn’t move quite that fast. and she’ll always call you “dear”, or “hon”.

2. The Flamboyantly Gay Guy – typically fluttering around in the smoking section, so if you need a light, you can spark up off of him (okay, so that WAS rude – but is it inaccurate?) always there; always a good call; and typically the best in service from my experience (and hopefully not ’cause he wants me…at least so i convince myself…it aids in my digestion to do so). he also usually calls you “dear” or “hon” (or at least i HOPE i’m not the only person he calls that.)

3. The Permanent Fixture, Part I – the woman, usually in her 40s, who took this job when she was nineteen, planned on doing it for a month or three, and suddenly realizes it’s twenty years later, and she’s STILL there. a bit bitter, a bit slow, and not typically glad to see you, ’cause in HER eyes, if people like YOU wouldn’t keep coming in, the place would close, and she’d HAVE to move on…and sell avon. or maybe run her brother’s fireworks stand.

4. The Permanent Fixture, Part II – the same woman as numero 3; but the pre-hell, nineteen year old version. still a bit perky, still a bit upbeat; but she kinda sorta KNOWS when she looks at numero 3, a couple of sections over, that she’s looking through time; and it ain’t pretty….just hope that version of reality doesn’t snap in while you’re there…and hope she doesn’t have a concealed permit…

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