Eatin' Good in the Neighborhood.
Though he might appear the worldiest (or maybe just the oldest) member of the Walnut Street Posse, H.W.D.N.T.B.N. has actually led a quite sheltered life in certain respects. Sure, he's lost nearly all of his hearing thanks to ten years of super-cool Rock and Roll, and sure, he can open a bottle of wine without using his teeth, and sure, he once met Mark Spitz, but there are areas of American life in which H.W.D.N.T.B.N. is quite the hayseed.
For example, H.W.D.N.T.B.N. didn't eat white bread until he was 21. He was well into his adult life before he understood why people thought mustard was yellow, having spent his childhood only in the presence of the expensive brown varities found at high-end deli establishments. He doesn't know the lyrics to any songs by Color Me Badd, Snow, Ugly Kid Joe, or Ace of Base. He cannot name any famous (or marginally famous, or famous only online) Hollywood it-girls, and either calls them all "that JayLows" or interrupts T.O.C.E. while she enjoys her favorite programs by asking "Do I know who that is?"
Luckily, H.W.D.N.T.B.N. has everyone's favorite trash food and media junky at his side to help him, and this morning, like an inverse Galatea, he was shepherded into a new corral of low culture, the likes of which he had never seen before.
T.O.C.E. took him here.
They had intended to go to a breakfast establishment that T.O.C.E. found online, whose logo was a flaming skillet ("They should've named the restaurant 'Oops, Your Food's on Fire,'" H.W.D.N.T.B.N. suggested helpfully). On their way to the breakfast place, however, T.O.C.E.'s car began to overheat (again), and the pair had to pull into the first available parking lot, which happened to house Everyone's Favorite Casual Dining Restaurant. H.W.D.N.T.B.N had been talking about going there ever since he saw that Will Ferrell NASCAR movie. He was shocked to find out that yes, they had these restaurants in Iowa, too.
After dodging dozens of ampled-bodied residents of The City of Five Seasons to get to their booth, H.W.D.N.T.B.N. was silent for several minutes, obviously awed by the panopticon of wall decor, which included an obscure Bob Seger album and about 43 inspirational posters. He was then fascinated by the fact that nearly all of the menu items had pictures accompanying their descriptions, enabling diners to just point to their lunchtime selections and grunt, instead of actually verbalizing an order. He ordered dessert (of course-- the man must consume 6 billion calories a day to maintain his meathead physique) by merely requesting of the waitress "that awesome ice cream picture-dessert thing" and was amazed when she brought him just what he wanted.
When he actually got his language skills back for long enough to ask T.O.C.E. how she found her order, a "Gardenzania Freshenburgerganza," or whateverthehell, she responded, "It kind of tastes like a grocery store."
H.W.D.N.T.B.N. took a bite, and concurred. "It really DOES, doesn't it? That is so cool! I knew I was going to love this place!"
Put away your Blancpain watches and overly-complicated La Perla intimees, girls, and pray that you land yourselves a man this ridiculously easy to sassisfy.
Their car sufficiently cooled, the pair drove home, where the amount of weird crap in their systems caused them both to nearly pass out. And it wasn't even 2pm yet.
For example, H.W.D.N.T.B.N. didn't eat white bread until he was 21. He was well into his adult life before he understood why people thought mustard was yellow, having spent his childhood only in the presence of the expensive brown varities found at high-end deli establishments. He doesn't know the lyrics to any songs by Color Me Badd, Snow, Ugly Kid Joe, or Ace of Base. He cannot name any famous (or marginally famous, or famous only online) Hollywood it-girls, and either calls them all "that JayLows" or interrupts T.O.C.E. while she enjoys her favorite programs by asking "Do I know who that is?"
Luckily, H.W.D.N.T.B.N. has everyone's favorite trash food and media junky at his side to help him, and this morning, like an inverse Galatea, he was shepherded into a new corral of low culture, the likes of which he had never seen before.
T.O.C.E. took him here.
They had intended to go to a breakfast establishment that T.O.C.E. found online, whose logo was a flaming skillet ("They should've named the restaurant 'Oops, Your Food's on Fire,'" H.W.D.N.T.B.N. suggested helpfully). On their way to the breakfast place, however, T.O.C.E.'s car began to overheat (again), and the pair had to pull into the first available parking lot, which happened to house Everyone's Favorite Casual Dining Restaurant. H.W.D.N.T.B.N had been talking about going there ever since he saw that Will Ferrell NASCAR movie. He was shocked to find out that yes, they had these restaurants in Iowa, too.
After dodging dozens of ampled-bodied residents of The City of Five Seasons to get to their booth, H.W.D.N.T.B.N. was silent for several minutes, obviously awed by the panopticon of wall decor, which included an obscure Bob Seger album and about 43 inspirational posters. He was then fascinated by the fact that nearly all of the menu items had pictures accompanying their descriptions, enabling diners to just point to their lunchtime selections and grunt, instead of actually verbalizing an order. He ordered dessert (of course-- the man must consume 6 billion calories a day to maintain his meathead physique) by merely requesting of the waitress "that awesome ice cream picture-dessert thing" and was amazed when she brought him just what he wanted.
When he actually got his language skills back for long enough to ask T.O.C.E. how she found her order, a "Gardenzania Freshenburgerganza," or whateverthehell, she responded, "It kind of tastes like a grocery store."
H.W.D.N.T.B.N. took a bite, and concurred. "It really DOES, doesn't it? That is so cool! I knew I was going to love this place!"
Put away your Blancpain watches and overly-complicated La Perla intimees, girls, and pray that you land yourselves a man this ridiculously easy to sassisfy.
Their car sufficiently cooled, the pair drove home, where the amount of weird crap in their systems caused them both to nearly pass out. And it wasn't even 2pm yet.
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