Breakfast was at the Waffle House. The signage was so getto [sic!] that I was sure I had chosen a local favorite, but I wasn’t ten minutes in my cream-colored PT Cruiser (the gayest car in South Carolina and George combined!) when I saw another, and then another, and soon I realized that I had breakfasted at the iHOP of the south.
Click here to read the whole post, complete with sly Louis Prima reference.
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