Real Life Pimp and Ho

(…Not All that Funny, Actually)

Early one morning last week, I went to the University District’s International House of Pancakes, the only place where one can actually get breakfast before 8 am. Lo and behold, a gruff talking, shiny pink cap wearing, less than hygienated man and a pasty, bi-minutely mirror-preening woman wearing a dress emphasizing her unhealthily slim physique sat at a table that, unfortunately, occupied the majority of my visual field.

Highlights of their conversation included:
“Bitch, are you listening to me…?”
“Yeah whatever, that skank’s on crack anyway…”
“Hey waiterman, bring us our fuckin’ check. Been waiting a fuckin’ half hour already.”

I couldn’t help looking; they were worse than a car wreck. I guess I enjoyed a somewhat vice-sheltered upbringing. Needless to say, I don’t see myself going back to IHOP anytime soon.