Indulge your inner fatty


While we appreciate fine food, and loathe regurgitated MexiChow, we’re not food snobs. We won’t eat puke on a biscuit. Albeit our palettes are refined and we’re somewhat discriminate about what we shove in our pie holes, we can be found, every Friday morning, travelling down AuWhoreA Avenue towards that familiar beacon towering above the Snohomish strip malls: Denny’s.


Who can argue against a menu with pictures?

You get:

·         Enough sugar to induce a diabetic coma—from French toast with icing and apple pie filling to extra syrup for dipping

·          Heart-stopping cholesterol: double thick French toast, stacks of pancakes slathered in buttah, Moons over My Hammy® (or  you could kid yourself and get the Fit-Fare™ Skinny Moons—loser)

Moons Over My Hammy


·         Every “meat” product known to man

·         Rotating breakfast themes (we’re currently working our way through the French Toast Collection)

·         Coffee, coffee, and more coffee

·         Enough time to make critical life decisions with bff without having to worry about being shooed away

·         A crusty old waitress named Joanne who will serve it all up with a smile and be happy with a $2 tip

·         Consistency: order the same thing 1,267 times and it will taste the same every-single-fucking-time.

All for less than $11/person.  

Best part about it? You’ll be the youngest, the prettiest, and the thinnest person in the whole damned place.


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