N literally just shamed me into blogging which, I think, is slightly unfair because I'm blogging about two weeks of breakfasts instead of one. Clearly I should be allowed more time.

I've been putting off blogging hoping that I will think of something brilliant to say but that doesn't seem to be the case so here I go anyway with an amazing lack of luminosity.

Two weeks ago we went for a weekend trip to Montanna which meant no diner but lots of other good things including but not limited too: real cherry vanilla coke at a real soda shoppe, cheesecake, buffalo meatloaf, a pound of fudge, and fifty some dollars worth of hard candy.

Of course, there was lots of good conversation, especially during the four hour drive. Two good quotes that came from that were: "But Carebears don't have genitals!" from J and, "Apparently I am Hitler for squirrels," from C. Those are in no way related but apart from that I can honestly say that context wouldn't help.

So, fast forward a week from that trip and rewind almost a week from today and we are back at The Diner. Our diner. To be frank, Saturday was an off day. Everything from the lighting to the conversation was off and it just wasn't as fun as it should have been. Sunday made up for it though because we reached an important milestone: we no longer have to give our name to the greeter--they just write it down. In the interest of fairness I should note that this might have less to do with our constant eating there and more to do with the fact that the greeter is best friends with the cook who asked C out, but a milestone is a milestone.

I do wish that N had given herself the trouble of writing this blog because her social observations are more acute than mine. Be that as it may I have faithfully laid down all the events I can remember from the past two weeks of breakfasting, bitching, and the mornings when the intersect so I bid you adieu!

J