Wednesday, February 25, 2009

Gladstone indeed!

O.K. I admit it. The Double Extra Portly One was seeking emotional refuge. After 100,000 miles the water pump on Josephine, his beloved 1938 Buick had given up the ghost. The Tripple Chinned One is awaiting a new pump from Bob's Automobilia in Sacramento, and is thus temporarily 1938 Buick deprived. It's a terrible privation.

He of Much Extra Girth sought to drown his sadness in a new joint. A new joint where he could enjoy the forbidden fruit of donuts. There are in life few things worse for the body and better for the soul, than a couple of donuts and a cup of strong Joe.

So, with some hope the Fat Man entered Gladstones donuts at the south east corner of Lake and Washington. First bit of bad news: no french crulliers. The maple ones are the way to the Fat Man's heart, at least according to the repeated warnings of his doctor....

Next try, two other favorites, a glazed buttermilk, and a chocolate with chocolate frosting. He of Many Extra Xes tried the chocolate with chocolate frosting first. It was flavorless. It had a dry uncomfortable texture. The Fat Man tried, but couldn't eat more than two bites. The glazed buttermilk was no better. The Fat Man braved one bite and put them both back in the bag and into the trash.

As to the coffee, when The Fat Man was a young boy if he said bad things anywhere near his Grandmother she would wash his mouth out with brown soap. Grandmother's brown soap water was better than this joints coffee.

AVOID THIS PLACE.

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