Eating waffles is a very popular pastime among people aged young to old. Upon first analysis, that doesn’t seem too outrageous. What’s there to dislike? The syrup. The butter. The waffles. The fork. The knife. It’s an experience that does not seem to warrant improvement. The only thing that would make it better would be if waffles weren’t trying to destroy everything you love from the inside out with a reckless abandon previously thought to be completely impossible. Yes, but for the little caveat that waffles have no remorse about killing you and your family and/or friends depending which group you care about more, they’re just the bee’s knees. Peaches and cream. Waffles and syrup, if you will. But they’re awful. And that’s why it is my official  that you Don’t Eat Waffles Here.

Why One Would Eat Waffles

Time for a hypothetical: Stu wakes up. It’s a dreary day, rain and fog rolling in from the east. It’s too damn early and it’s too damn cold to even think about getting out of bed. Yet here Stu is, standing in his leather underwear, alone in his kitchen. Stu’s so damn hungry it’s driving him mad, but all Stu has in the cupboard is cold cereal. Cold cereal, the breakfast of champions. Cold cereal – Honey Bunches of Oats, perhaps – that Stu’s been eating without fail for the past fifteen years of his dull, lonely life. Suddenly, an epiphany! “Instead of cold cereal, I’ll have waffles!” Stu frolics to the freezer to pull out the frozen delicacies, not caring that his leather underwear has torn from the sudden movement.

Stu thinks that, by acknowledging his sad state of existence, he offsets the embarrassment. Stu is wrong.