Wednesday, December 05, 2007

Sweatpants Dad

Elyse is staying at a hotel with a free continental breakfast . . .
By the way, I looked in the Comfort Inn's breakfast nook this morning and decided that never again will I fuck with a hotel breakfast. Assholes with their bowls of Brown Sugar Cinnamon Instant Quaker in styrofoam bowls or prodding a tough English muffin with a flaccid plastic fork. Thimble of Tropicana. Foil-wrapped margarine pat. Nobody can figure out the toaster. And that suddenly-ubiquitous hotel waffle iron with Dixie cups full of batter! God! Sweatpants Dad, you're humiliating yourself with that thing!

I do not understand people that willingly appear in public places in their pajamas.

Now, yes, if he is fresh from a session on the treadmill, that is one thing - but if he is then he's all sweaty and gross in the dining area so there is another faux paus.

People: sweatpants in a hotel are sleeping and exercise wear. You may pad down to the ice machine in them but appearing in the lobby for breakfast in your PJs is just all kinds of messed up.
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