Quietly panicking

Less than 20 hours until we leave for San Francisco and I am quietly panicking and waiting for my laundry to be done so I can pack it.

. . .

The Zoka people tell a story about a guy (one of the managers?) who works there who highly objects to rude language. If someone — even a customer — would swear, he would chastise them, saying, "Hey, this isn't a Denny's!" This has made him the object of much derison and although I've never met him, I think it's truly a funny story. We often walk around telling each other to be cool, this isn't a Denny's.

Today, Dragons and I had occasion to actually go to Denny's, while we were down in The Fed, as I had a hankering for hash browns that just would not go away. Now, I know how to make a lot of great breakfast food, but I've never mastered hash browns. They always turn out greasy or gray or some other horrible thing. It makes me cry with sad, because I love potatoes and all potato products like a motherfucker. Seriously.

So, to Denny's we went.

We had a really cool server, it must've been his first week working or something — he looked all of 17 with the baby fat cheeks and everything. But we had a good time joking around with him and ordering, and he came back a few minutes later to tell us the coffee would be a while as they were brewing a fresh pot. Dragons said, "Hey, what the hell, you should always have coffee ready according to my whims!"

Mock seriously, our server said, "Sir, please watch your language. . . "

"Seriously. This isn't a Denny's!" I finished.

We cracked up all over the place while our server looked some sort of combination of amused and horrified, until Mike explained it and he seemed somewhat less horrified and somewhat more amused.

And I ate a metric ton of hash browns.

. . .

I'm pretty sure that all I have to do between now and tomorrow is pack my shiznit. And get some Top Pot donuts. And possibly bake a cake. Am I baking a cake? I honestly can't remember.

In any case, remember that it's that beat that make ya get crunk.