Brunch

hola amigos! it's been a while, again. for some reason, yeti's get very lazy in the south...maybe it's just the south because everyone is lazy there! anyhow, an interesting thing happened today and i deemed it blogworthy, so gather round children and let me weave you a little tale.

beardo and his wife were up this weekend from williamsburg. a sewer line had broken and their water was contaminated, so they ran for the hills (everyone knows that no matter where a yeti lives, he's on a mountain. that's just the way it is.) everything went all well and good. beardo and i got in a bunch of fooseball games, with the only disappointing game being the psu/nd game. let me take this moment to say, FUCK YOU CHARLIE WEIS!!! he showed absolutely no class by going for it on 4 and 1 late in the game when penn state was already out of the game. i had given him more props (as they say in ebonics) that to pull something like that. you never see joepa pull any tricks like that. in fact, when joepa takes the starters out of a game because it's well in hand, i'm sure we can all imagine dane fischer somewhere far off saying, "that's mighty white of you joepa".

anyhow, back to my story. today we woke up and for brunch, i treated my hippie friends (seriously, beardo's whole wardrobe is tie-dye. this kind of makes me sad because i'd also like to wear one of my tie-dye shirts but i'm never able. no reason for us to dress like twins) . so, as has become custom, the three of us went to IHOP. there was a 15 minute wait, but that was cool. we saw some interesting sights, such as an ethnic oompa loompa and a thug-esque man with pastel green, blue and purple nike sneakers. we were seated and made our orders. low and behold, a guy and girl come in and sit in a booth kind of catty-corner to where we were sitting...at 11 o'clock from me. the strange thing about this girl is that she looked like the lovely dana mattingly from monroe, louisiana except with blonde hair. i made not of this to beardo and we continued with our conversation. some time later, my gaze turned upon this beauty once again, only this time i notice something peculiar going on under the table. the boyfriend had taken his sandal off and was getting faux-dana off under the table. she was rocking back and forth into his foot. for some reason, this made me laugh. when i checked back in on the action, i saw him give her a couple soft kicks to the poon as well. i no longer think that it should be called International House of Pancakes. i vote for changing the name to International House of Poontang. any other suggestions?

kill you matt.