Liveblogging IHOP

8: 25
Tonight's installment comes from the dining room of Culpeper's International House of Pancakes, where I'm currently stationed with my laptop, an endless pot of coffee, a glass of ice water, and a brownie sundae (hold the whipped topping and cherry.)

The reason I'm here, as opposed to, say, home or work, is that Thing Two wanted to go with a couple of lady friends to see Zombieland at the Culpeper Movies 4. Since Kelly and I saw it only Thursday, and since I didn't want to cramp Thing Two's style too much, I planned to buy them tickets and escape for an hour or two. Alas, the staff at the Culpeper Movies 4 demanded that I accompany them, since they're all sixteen and Zombieland is rated R. I grumbled a bit, but I bought my ticket, sat away from the trio and near the exit, and as the opening credits wrapped up, I ducked out the exit and headed to the car.

That brownie sundae didn't have much of a chance.


I'm still not sure I'm working this newfangled webcam properly, but let's see if I can capture the moment here:

Good to know I haven't lost ALL my tech mojo.

"We have a very special eight-year-old birthday at IHOP today!" The waits have just pleased some little girl pretty well, I'd say.

I'm still trying to figure out what defines good diner coffee. It's not watery--that's crucial--but it's also not terribly strong. Breadmen's in Chapel Hill has always had what to me tastes like the definitive diner coffee. This stuff is a wee bit too burnt to quite match it. Still--endless pot!

Some guy in a Carolina-blue-and-navy striped rugby shirt just tiptoed over to my table to take one of my creamers. Since the nice hostess brought me ten of them, I let him take it. Either he's pounding down half and half like there's no tomorrow over at his table, or the hostess liked me better. Neener.

UNC won its football game today, which is good, but since it was against a non-Division I team (Georgia Southern), I'm not prepared to call it a big win. Then again, since we just got beaten last week by Virginia, in Chapel Hill, I guess ANY win is fairly big.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have a very special birthday at IHOP..." Y'know, the evidence from six minutes ago would suggest that it's not all that special... Also, I think Randy's being a good ways over eight years old probably makes him less likely to enjoy the wait crew clapping and singing for him.

The movie, if you're wondering, is quite good: a funny, well-written take on the ubiquitous zombie apocalypse, with something of the tone of Shaun of the Dead, but not quite as sweet. The characters are engaging, the gore fairly plentiful, the violence hilarious. We'll see what Thing Two has to say about it when I head out to fetch him in a bit. Assuming they haven't booted him out of the theater for daring to remain there after his father drove away.

Heh. NC State lost to Duke today. I don't root for Duke, mind you, but I'm usually happy to laugh at a State loss.

This is my weekend between the rock of 5th/6th Form Parents' Weekend, when the exhausted parents of my (usually) experienced English students come to visit Woodberry, and the hard place of 3rd/4th Form Parents' Weekend, when the shell-shocked parents of my (usually) new Speech students come to visit Woodberry and I have to get my grades calculated in order to share reports of their sons' progress with them. So naturally this is the weekend when we have to put together the school newspaper.

While I'm thinking about it, I have a book to recommend: Cory Doctorow's Little Brother, a smart, slightly wise-ass but firmly principled tale of terrorism, surveillance, interrogation, hacking, and teenaged love. It was a finalist for the Best Novel Hugo this year, and I'd argue it was deserving. (I'd say Neil Gaiman's The Graveyard Book, which won, was more deserving, but still.)

And for recommending the Doctorow, let me offer a tip of the hat to John Scalzi, whose blog, Whatever, ought to be a regular reading experience for those who want to read the online blatherings of someone smarter and hipper than me, and at least as funny, but who posts a lot more often than I do.

A lot of people seem to be freaking out about Obama's winning the Nobel Peace Prize only nine months into his tenure. I don't really know that he's especially deserving, but it's not my award to give. I guess at the base, I just don't see the point in getting worked up about awards. I mean, was Sean Hannity upset that the American-made Little Brother lost the Hugo to a book by an English guy? Besides, we're talking about an award that was once given to Henry Kissinger, so it had already sort of lost its aura. Kind of like the Grammy for Best New Artist. Debby Boone? A Taste of Honey? Starland Vocal Band? It's not as though Milli Vanilli damaged the award's legitimacy, y'know.

Ah, the dining room is starting to empty out. The late dinner crowd is on its way home, and the late-night stoners haven't yet finished their bong hits and giggled their way to the car yet. I can see the remnants of three unbussed tables from where I am, and there's a couple and a trio still noshing. The parking lot has only one car visible--not mine, since I'm parked on the side near the Chick-Fil-A--and it's starting to look like time to drink up and head out.

My server was Brenda B., who left my check for 6.59 a while back. She was nice enough, though she hasn't been back to check on me in a while, so I think she'll get the full 15%. Let's see... maybe I'll just go with the $2.00 tip. That's easier to calculate.


See you at home, folks!


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This page contains a single entry by Peter Cashwell published on October 10, 2009 6:35 PM.

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