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Breakfast of Champions
The most important meal of the day--from rags to the Richmond
By C. Silo
Photos by Farika
An unusually sociable and insatiable bunch, young transplant San Franciscans seem to be obsessed with eating breakfast in public. For them, being stuffed into MUNI buses, bars, clubs, burrito joints and Internet start-up cubicles isn't enough. They need to be surrounded by mass amounts of people who look like them at all times--especially on weekend mornings, when they reek of alcohol and look an absolute mess.
No, I've never understood it--for me a satisfying breakfast is a pot of coffee, a wee bit of cream and a couple smokes. But between the hours of 11am and 3pm on weekends, you will find these piggish hipsters waiting in line to stuff their faces at overpriced, glorified greasy spoons in the Mission, the Haight, the Castro or wherever hungry, lonely souls tend to gather.
But seriously, unless your stomach is hollowed out by a long night of whiskey sours and exhaustive sex, porking out on slimy eggs and greasy pig parts is an utterly repulsive act. The wretchedness of this crime is only compounded by the fact that these youngsters must do this in the company of one another--they must prove to one another that they, too, partied the night before, that they, too, got laid last night. This eating breakfast collectively in public business is nothing more than an insecure way for hipsters to prove to one another that, despite their tribal tattoos and other signs of rugged individuality, they secretly wish to be as homogenous as a pitcher of nonfat milk.
Hungered by a relatively long, demanding night of sex with my favorite ex-convict/bike messenger, I decided to give the whole breakfast deal a whirl. Although I had left his filthy flat before passing out (a girl can't submit her clean bottom to unkempt toilet seats)--and would thus be unable to prove to all of Valencia Street my sexual prowess--I gave a ring to cute DJ Fantaseize, who, despite her rebellious nose ring, is always up for public displays of hedonistic homogeneity. Please consult my Breakfast of Champions Timeline to find out how you, too, can stuff your face publicly with the utmost glamorous intentions.
11:00am: Rise and Fix That Shiny Nose
11:30am: Mission Impossible
12 Noon: Feelin' Fierce--Almost
12:30pm: The Lower Haight: Been There and Done It Too Much
Fiercest Woman Alive: Ingrid makes morning worthwhile at Miz Brown's.
12:45pm: Ingrid Serves It Like It Is, and Then Some
Not to mention, Miz Brown's is home to the fiercest woman alive: Ingrid. Decked out in cute flares, a clean white blouse and a hot-mama hairdo, Ingrid serves it up to the salivating children five days a week from within this fabulous, straight-up Americana joint. Fantaseize and I are immediately seated in the VIP booth area, where our very own private jukebox is already blasting Dolly Parton.
Ingrid, the eternal goddess from Hamburg, Germany, hands us menus and fills our coffee cups to the rims. I scour the options: British Bangers? Had that last night. Ham Omelet? My Jewish tradition won't permit. Ground Round Steak and Eggs? It's too early for swallowing protein. Short Stack? Sounds too proletarian. I settle on Strawberry Waffles, while the elegant carnivore Fantaseize chooses a Spanish Omelet and home fries. Naturally, our meal arrives within seconds--Miz Brown's knows that the truly glamorous just can't wait.
1:30pm: Breakfast of Champions
And what exactly is served, you ask? Oh, sweetie, all the nourishment you'll ever need to survive the chaos of modern times: Bloody Marys, cigarettes and juicy, nasty house music. Like Ingrid, DJ David Harness serves it to the children fast and hard--and if you don't eat it, it's just going to go to waste. Accordingly, Fantaseize and I order Bloody Marys from a bartender who resembles the lead singer from Australian '80s band Midnight Oil.
2:30pm Sexed-Up and Ready to Go
"Serve!" we scream as Mr. Harness works the turntables. Feeding the hungry children thick beats and simmered divas, Mr. Harness evokes the spirit of Ingrid from within the sound system--Fantaseize and I are overcome by the Miz Brown's goddess and completely lose it amid the wonderful anarchy of the dance floor.
3:00pm I'm Not a Freak--You Are
6:00pm Out of Cash, Full of Love
9:00pm Who's the Real Queen?
If breakfast is something that should be consumed in public areas, take me to the EndUp. I won't wait in line for food, but I'll surely stand in line to powder my nose x
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