My coronary arteries feel like slimy. It reminded me of a Denny's (on par with McD except with a larger helping of human despair).
I hate making bad bad jokes, but I'm seriously traumatized and not in my right mind. Sorry Celine, my heart will not go on. Not after this.
Imagine. An oval plate. A pasty yellow omelette. Some sort of filling (I'm guessing cheese), a decorative scattering of bell peppers and sausage. Just enough to insinuate a meal worth $6.00. A pasty, unbuttered English muffin (how the FUCK do you get an English muffin wrong?!) A small slice of cantaloupe peeking from beneath the carefully placed omelette and hash browns. I love warm fruit.
And the hash browns. Goodie. I imagine that the cook shredded up some taters, microwaved them until tender, then gargled some melted lard in his mouth, shoveled a handful of the taters into his pie-hole, then *bleeeeeeaaaaaaaaaah* onto the plate in one slimy globule. It glistened in the glinting sunlight. So beautiful.
After my meal was finished (Yes, all of it. I was hungry dammit), the plate looked cancerous with yellowish growths smattered around the decorative lettuce leaf.
Wash it down. Wash it down with coffee....