hunger

Cravings are the weirdest thing:

Right now, I have a sinking feeling that I will never possibly be satiated except with a pecan waffle from Waffle House, of all places.

I am my grandfather's progeny, that is for sure. Minus the trucker cap and safety pin-and-duct-tape wardrobe. (He's the original punk. Yes, I'm proud.)

And he loves Waffle House. In fact, you can't imagine the family drama that has taken place at Waffle House, and I'm not going to tell you.

I went to Waffle House on prom night with one of the nicest, most personable writers to hit the planet. It was deliciously sketch and the pecan waffle was incredible.

Going to the Waffle House is sometimes like flirting with death, but in the best way possible. It's like speeding on the Blue Ridge Parkway or eating M&Ms that drop on the floor.

And I will never be happy unless I eat a pecan waffle. Right now.