Tag Archives: Waffle House
I cannot believe I left my phone in the car and didn’t get a photo of this one. At a Waffle House in an upscale Peachtree City strip center Saturday, I spied a sign on the wall that said:
SHIRT AND SHOES MUST BE WORN TO BE SERVED.
Goodgodtomightee! I can’t even begin to think how to diagram that one.
Because we’re used to seeing, here in the South, “NoShoesNoShirtNoService” signs, we understand it by context. But imagine Star Man or someone from another country trying to parse this out. It could mean a host of things, not one of them what its author intended.
If shirt and shoes want us to serve them some food, they must be on someone’s torso and feet.
We only serve shirt and shoes that are old and worn.
We only serve shirt and shoes attached to someone’s torso and feet.
If shirt and shoes want food, they must be old and worn out.
Thank goodness there was no armed panda (as opposed, you know, to a no-armed panda) in this particular WaHo.
The morning after. Ben’s fresh eggs for the Littles. A trip to WaHo for the Bigs.
A crowd of friends. Cokes. Pizza. Wayne and Garth. Waffle House. Guitar Center (bigger amp, new bass). Leftover pizza.
Happy 14, Max and Warren.