Breakfast with Babs

I fell out of bed at 10 o’clock this morning. You know that dream you have where you’re falling and you jerk yourself awake? Yeah, that’s what happened. Cursing at the floor, I rubbed my forehead and could already feel a knot growing. I’ll just tell anyone who asks that it’s a mosquito bite and then quickly change the subject.

"Oh this? Yeah, it's a mosquito bite. Hey, did you see that game last night?"

“Oh this? Yeah, it’s a mosquito bite. Hey, did you see that game last night?”

The fridge was empty and my stomach rumbled with disappointment. I checked the good ol’ bank account and figured I had enough to buy a meal without overdrafting. The local diner, Babs, was still serving breakfast so I hopped in the shower, got dressed and headed out. I was making my way downtown, walking fast, faces passed I was diner bound. I glided into the diner with the confidence and swagger of a starving Ethiopian. You thought I was gonna say something cool didn’t you?

It was an usual cloudy day in sunny California so I decided to take a seat outside and enjoy the cool weather. It’s not everyday that you’re greeted with a cool grey sky instead of being tortured by a hot, unforgiving sun. The waiter was a young, Filipino guy with a San Francisco Giants ball cap and black rimmed glasses. Several thoughts immediately crossed my mind:

  1. Fuck the Giants (Go Nationals!!!)
  2. It’s cool that the employees here can wear ball caps.
  3. But still, fuck the Giants.

“What can I get for you today?” he asked. I proceeded to order french toast, eggs, and bacon with coffee and water to drink.

“How would you like your eggs cooked?”

“Over hard, please,” I responded proudly. Normally, I would order my eggs scrambled with cheese but today was different. Before arriving at the diner, I actually googled different ways to cook eggs. What started as a simple google search suddenly turned into a full on research project. Looking at all the different ways to cook eggs, I took mental notes of different egg recipes and cooking methods. I can tell you the difference between eggs scrambled hard or soft, I can tell you exactly when to flip an omelet, I can even tell you how to soft boil an egg. Until today, I had never even heard of a frittata.

It kinda looks like an egg pizza doesn't it?

A frittata kinda looks like an egg pizza doesn’t it?

It sounds like a drink that a 20-something blonde woman would order from Starbucks on her way to yoga practice.

Enough about eggs though.

My food arrived in a timely manner and as the waiter placed the food on the table he said “You’ve got something on your forehead.”

“It’s a mosquito bite. The food looks great, thanks.” Jackass.

The food was amazing, and as I looked at the not-too-expensive bill I reached into my pocket for a wallet that was not there. I left it in the house right on the nightstand next to the bed I tragically fell out of this morning. So now I’m washing dishes and writing this blog post from my phone in the kitchen of Bab’s diner which is why this is titled “Breakfast with Babs” instead of “Breakfast at Bab’s.”

I could really use a tall fritatta with a shot of kill me now.

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