Breakfast in America - wonderful album, everyone has a copy - but that's not the point - the point is that over here, Breakfast in America is so, well, tiring.
Frequently I can turn up at work exhausted by the seemingly endless decisions that have to be made whilst the lymbic system is still fast asleep.
'And how would you like your eggs' - such a simple question that has multiple answers - sunny side up - over easy - over medium - poached-scrambled ....
In the UK it's just eggs.
I never realised that there were so many options- but the service is usually good - even though the sense of humor is lacking and sarcasm hasn't made the trans Atlantic trip.
You see, there are so few practitioners of the art of irony that it's very disappointing.
I'd like my eggs breach birthed blunt end first - I'd like them cracked in mid air by a Japanese samurai with a sword that has a name - I'd like them cooked over a flame fueled by 100 year old vodka and I'd like them fried in melted goose fat imported from France.
I'd like my orange juice squeezed from fruit that has grown on the tallest tree and I'd like it served in a lead crystal glass that was used by Louis XIV.
Geraldine, the waitress, (from texas - so the badge on her breast says) didn't understand.
However you alone know that I am joking - I am nearly 50 - so I take the 'all bran' with extra raisins and a glass of prune juice.
I am a slave to my rectum - much like the guys down castro ...... but that's another story..
Supertramp never had this problem.
Frequently I can turn up at work exhausted by the seemingly endless decisions that have to be made whilst the lymbic system is still fast asleep.
'And how would you like your eggs' - such a simple question that has multiple answers - sunny side up - over easy - over medium - poached-scrambled ....
In the UK it's just eggs.
I never realised that there were so many options- but the service is usually good - even though the sense of humor is lacking and sarcasm hasn't made the trans Atlantic trip.
You see, there are so few practitioners of the art of irony that it's very disappointing.
I'd like my eggs breach birthed blunt end first - I'd like them cracked in mid air by a Japanese samurai with a sword that has a name - I'd like them cooked over a flame fueled by 100 year old vodka and I'd like them fried in melted goose fat imported from France.
I'd like my orange juice squeezed from fruit that has grown on the tallest tree and I'd like it served in a lead crystal glass that was used by Louis XIV.
Geraldine, the waitress, (from texas - so the badge on her breast says) didn't understand.
However you alone know that I am joking - I am nearly 50 - so I take the 'all bran' with extra raisins and a glass of prune juice.
I am a slave to my rectum - much like the guys down castro ...... but that's another story..
Supertramp never had this problem.
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