Alan Smithee

Breakfast, Only in Utah

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I’m trying a local restaurant out here in the great white north of Clearfield, Utah…and to paint a picture of the experience, there is maple wood paneling all over the walls, old shit decorating the rest of the space, and the best part is that there’s a lady playing and singing patriotic music in front of the restaurant on a keyboard. Who knows, she might hit the big time and be the next Cher if she keeps it up.

The guys behind us chronicle the woes of being divorced patents who collect disability checks. Suddenly the conversation switches to how Obama is tuning this country communist.

As I sit here drinking my iced tea, I watch 3 or 4 older, over-tanned women stroll into the restaurant seperately and grab seats with their doting husbands. I turned to my wife and said “I want you to remember, you picked out this restaurant.” nedless to say, we won’t be coming back.

Where might you find such a restaurant? Behind a small shady car dealership and right next door to a night club of course! This is all happening at 9 am on a Sunday…holy crap.

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