Posts Tagged With: breakfast

Don’t Sweat The Small Stuff

What is it with these type-A personalities?

You know, the ones who like to drive their BMWs right up your ass or cut you off because you aren’t driving fast enough for them because they’re jacked up on 64 ounces of Starbucks, hold the foam?… the ones who are rude to wait staff and usually undertip?… the ones who’s snot-nosed brats go to an overpriced, cult Christian school and eat sushi for lunch?… you know, the ones that live in Westlake and Agoura?…

…what’s up with them?

I’ll tell you what’s up with them; they’re weak and deep down inside, they really hate themselves. Have you ever noticed they’re always beating themselves up? You can spot ‘em at the gym; they’re the ones doing the most difficult, competitive, grunt-inducing class they possibly can. The one where the instructor berates them and calls them a fat loser, even though they have zero body fat, and they eat it up!

Because they don’t like themselves and like to be shamed. I’m telling you, that’s exactly what it is. Why else put yourself through such torture? You can work out and get healthy without pushing yourself to the brink of a hernia (that’s where the guy’s own body betrays him and sucks one of his balls up inside his body cavity, isn’t that disgusting?!) Personally, I would never date a guy who’s missing a ball. You need to have two if you wanna be with Clever Girl… hmm, maybe even three!

“Hey Mr. Overachiever, why not put down the 200 lb. weights, take a goddamn yoga class and chill the hell out? Then maybe you won’t be compelled to run my ass off the road in your Beemer!”

I never liked BMWs.

I’s not just the guys either, there are plenty of skinny bitches out there that are type-A too. They’re the ones texting on their diamond-encrusted iPhone while picking up their brats from school, clogging up the roads with their giant SUVs!

I never liked SUVs.

But I digress…

When I was in Westlake (yes, I had to go there the other day) I noticed that they were gonna open up one of those spin class places. You know, the ones the Type-A personalities take on a stationary bicycle (isn’t that an oxymoron?) It’s gonna be called Sweat Shop. Gee, that’s ironic. It simultaneously pokes fun at the very factories where the Nike workout gear they wear to class is made by that 13 year-old who gets paid a dollar an hour, and implies that you get to sweat your one remaining ball off.

Nice job.

It’s a hot spin studio by the way… that’s where they heat the room up to like, 100 degrees or something to add to the experience. That’s the new trend for the self-loathing; hot work-out rooms. It wasn’t enough for them to get their bony ass up on a bike seat that’s an inch wide and mega-peddle their way through an hour’s class, all while inhaling the body odor of the maniac on the bike next to them… they figured they’d add some heat. It’s a win-win!


Well while they’re beating themselves up, I’ll be across the parking lot eating delicious Belgian delights at Le Pain QuotidienThey’ve always had locations in such snotty asshole places, like Los Angeles and Calabasas, so I guess they figured they’d round it off and come to Westlake… yay!

LPQ (short for Le Pain Quotidien) is a bakery/restaurant/snotty hangout where you can enjoy some of the best breads, croissants and egg dishes anywhere! And it’s about time because this area has been seriously lacking good breakfast joints. But they don’t only do breakfast, they do lunch and dinner too.

No sweat!

No sweat!

I ordered a goat cheese and oyster mushroom omelet and the eggs were so fresh tasting and fluffy, it was like a puffy egg-cloud. Those Mexican Belgians sure know how to make an omelet! The only thing I didn’t like about it was the pesto drizzled over it, which was not mentioned on the description, otherwise I would have asked that they leave it off. But it came with some organic greens lightly dressed with a lemony vinaigrette and two slices of their fabulous bread, which was perfect!

The best part is the homemade jams and chocolate spreads that they put on the table that you can slather your bread with. They have several choices; dark chocolate, milk with hazelnut, and white chocolate, which is my personal favorite… and probably Westlake’s too, since it’s white. They also have a couple others but I have to limit myself to trying just one, otherwise I’ll have to start working out with crazies next door.

Oh, you’re probably wondering how the hell to pronounce Le Pain Quotidien too, right? Well how the hell should I know? I’m not Belgian (thank God!), but all you’ll have think about when you go there, is what type of chocolate spread you’re gonna eat on your bread…

…and if the sweaty guy leaving spin class still has both of his balls.

Le Pain Quotidien

2728 Townsgate Road

Westlake, CA


Categories: Breakfast, Brunch, Food, Humor, Satire | Tags: , , , , | 4 Comments

I Hope… For Pancakes

You know how you know something because everything inside you is telling you that you know, yet there’s this outer influence that’s trying to tell you that you don’t know? But your instincts keep telling you that yes, you actually do know, so why does this persistent outer influence continue to try to convince you otherwise by insinuating that it was pure imagination, and making you out to be the crazy one, saying that the thing that you know isn’t really what you knew after all, but rather, what they know?

I don’t know!

But I think that everyone knows what I’m talking about!


So what do you do when you’re being accused of having pure imagination? Eat pancakes, of course!

You should know that there are certain places that I wouldn’t go to get pancakes though, since I know what I’m talking about when it comes to pancakes! But pancakes are made with basic ingredients like flour, buttermilk and eggs, so why be so choosy about where you get them, you ask? Because most places don’t make them like that anymore. Most places make their pancakes with a pre-made box mix (like certain biscuits) and they just aren’t the same as the kind mixed with eggs and buttermilk! But when you’re in that moment of knowing that the only thing that’s gonna make you feel better is eating pancakes, and it’s not breakfast time anymore, but way past dinner time instead, then you can’t be choosy about where you get ‘em!

You know?

Luckily, pancakes sounded really good to my friend JD Kandyce too, who happened to be with me, and there was only one place that we could get them at that moment:


I know.

Normally I would never go there since there are so many other places to get really good pancakes, and I don’t think theirs are very good, but it was late and all the places that you can go to get great pancakes were closed. I’m sure that there are many of you who love IHOP and would say that their pancakes are just terrific! But they make so many of them, they’re like a pancake factory!

Like a scene right out of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, I envision their pancakes coming out of some sort of whistling steam-engine, which plops out perfectly shaped glops of pre-made batter onto a conveyor belt, which travels through a furnace, and the pancakes come out the other end and slip onto a plate, then a mechanical arm picks them up and swings them out onto rotating tables and into the grubby hands of hungry brats, who stuff their faces with stacks of them, and the machine pumps out pancake after pancake, with Willy Wonka at the controls! But not the creepy, gay, child-molester Johnny Depp-Willy Wonka, who pretty much ruined the film, but the superbly dynamic, subtly sadistic, yet totally loveable Gene Wilder-Willy Wonka, who made the film the fantastic, childhood glory that it is!

But like I said, it was very late, meaning just around 9:30 pm, and we had no other choice but to go there, since it was the only place open that served pancakes. And you know, it wasn’t as bad as I thought I knew it to be? I ordered a short stack of plain, buttermilk pancakes and when they came, I smeared the butter (margarine) all over them, then I drizzled (poured) real-fake maple (corn) syrup on top and dug right in. JD Kandyce had a kid’s strawberry funny-face pancake that she drizzled with real-fake strawberry flavored goop and when I asked her how it was, she said that it tasted fishy. I knew it! It wasn’t just my imagination, there was something… fishy about the place after all!

I hope I don’t have to make a habit out of going to IHOP for my pancakes, since I now know that it is not the best place to get a pancake! Right? I mean, I know I don’t live in a world of pure imagination!



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Categories: Breakfast, Food, Humor | Tags: , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

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