I tried to get over it, but it was just too much: for the last week, I’ve had this insanely intense craving for bacon and eggs. I never seem to have time to buy and cook them on my own for breakfast, and today I happened to walk by Crepevine and couldn’t take it anymore. So now I’m here with a plate of bacon and eggs and a cup of coffee.
For the last year or so that I’ve been regularly patronizing this joint, there has been this one cute server working that I always sigh over when he’s working here. I would usually see him working dinner shifts and then I started to not see him anymore. Well, it looks like he’s working breakfast shifts these days, at least according to this breakfast. He is a young-looking guy who has a soft spoken but rogue-ish Justin Timberlake quality, and this morning not only is it a surprise to see him but also to see that he has let his curly hair grow a little long. To my amusement, he has also allowed some facial hair, perhaps in an attempt to reign in that perpetual youth. This amused me because I recently blogged that I too am experimenting with facial hair, to mixed results — mainly feelings of strangeness, the sensation that I’m more foreign to myself than I’d ever felt or known.
Selma would tease me about how I should ask him out, but… oh, I dunno. Anyway, I’m intentionally not mentioning which Crepevine he works at in case you are in fact a little bit homosexual and you decide to chase him for yourself, you minx.