failboat.
IHoP will henceforth be known as International House of Fail.
I was already annoyed when I went to eat end-of-semester celebratory pancakes, because my teacher was freakin tricksy with the study guide (or, as it should have been called, what-not-to-study guide, because NOTHING from it was on the test.) I should have known to run when I smelled what seemed like a mix of clorox and butt. But, I stayed, because we drove all the way there, everyone was excited, and I had eaten there before. It was good the last time I went (which was actually two years ago.) And hey, clorox means they clean, right? So that must be a good sign. And I was the only one who could seemingly smell it, which apparently means my nose is sensitive to approaching doom.
Anyway, we're there, I order the strawberry banana pancakes. After I get them, I am very concerned becasue I see this woman who grabs a ice cream scoop out of a sink of dirty dishes, scoop out some ice cream that was also in the sink, and then throws the scoop back in there.
I look at Maarten and say "I am uncomfortable about the sanitation of this place." He shrugs and is like, yeah, but it's probably fine. I then foolishly began to eat my pancakes. HALF THE PANCAKE WAS NOT COOKED. At this point, I'm just trying to make myself enjoy it, because I've spent money on it...but halfway through eating I just give up and we leave.
Fifteen minutes later, I'm stuck in a car half an hour from my house feeling like I'm going to be extremely sick. This was at 11. It's four-twenty now. I'm still sick.
International House of Fail, I hate you.
I was already annoyed when I went to eat end-of-semester celebratory pancakes, because my teacher was freakin tricksy with the study guide (or, as it should have been called, what-not-to-study guide, because NOTHING from it was on the test.) I should have known to run when I smelled what seemed like a mix of clorox and butt. But, I stayed, because we drove all the way there, everyone was excited, and I had eaten there before. It was good the last time I went (which was actually two years ago.) And hey, clorox means they clean, right? So that must be a good sign. And I was the only one who could seemingly smell it, which apparently means my nose is sensitive to approaching doom.
Anyway, we're there, I order the strawberry banana pancakes. After I get them, I am very concerned becasue I see this woman who grabs a ice cream scoop out of a sink of dirty dishes, scoop out some ice cream that was also in the sink, and then throws the scoop back in there.
I look at Maarten and say "I am uncomfortable about the sanitation of this place." He shrugs and is like, yeah, but it's probably fine. I then foolishly began to eat my pancakes. HALF THE PANCAKE WAS NOT COOKED. At this point, I'm just trying to make myself enjoy it, because I've spent money on it...but halfway through eating I just give up and we leave.
Fifteen minutes later, I'm stuck in a car half an hour from my house feeling like I'm going to be extremely sick. This was at 11. It's four-twenty now. I'm still sick.
International House of Fail, I hate you.