Bacon Waffle.

The bacon waffle.  The bacon WAFFLE.  The BACON waffle.  The bacon waffle.

However you annunciate it, a hefty waffle with chopped up pieces of bacon and smothered in maple syrup is the best.  The best in ANTHING.  It's a total "last meal" kinda deal, too, where the only appropriate thing to follow up after eating one of these is to die.  And if not actually dying, you'll definitely feel like death.  "Portion control" is not a term I adhere to.

This was at a diner called Harlow's Cafe in Tempe, AZ.  I mentioned this place a while ago, and although it's no big deal to mention it again, I now understand the power of which I hold.  It's a weird kind of power.  Kind of an awkward power, really.  Let me explain:

A few months ago we played Rapture Con, a horror convention in Mesa that prided itself on zombie walks, zombie defense soldiers and Jake Busey.  It was pretty fun.  But like any other day, I craved some coffee.  So we headed off to Lo-Fi Coffee down the street.  Now, I mentioned this place before on my blog.  That's a vital piece of information in this story.

I got a cup of coffee.  The owner knew who I was.  How did he know who I was?  Not that I was in a band that sung about skeletons and stabbing people in the face, but he recognized me for having a blog.  A blog that mentioned my really-boring-adventure into his very own establishment, Lo-Fi Coffee, and the semi-review I gave the whole experience.  Half the time, I have no idea what I'm writing, how I write it or altogether what the hell I just wrote.  I quickly scanned my brain for information.  Did I write something shitty about Lo-Fi Coffee?  Did I say something dumb and immature, as per usual?  Did I say one of the girls working there was super cute, and would now be slapped with some kind of lawsuit?

Thankfully, none of the above.  In fact, the dude loved what I wrote and even took some advice from it.  I kinda went off on the "tipping system," which gave you an option to tip on their iPad after using any kind of card.  I complained that they held the thing in front of you, glaring, watching, waiting.  It's quite a mess for a neurotic guy like me.  Never in my life have I feigned an optic disease more than at that point.  Whoops, forgot my glasses!  Didn't see the tip option!  Sorry, bro!

Anyway, he said they did away with that.  Or at least respectfully turned their backs to wash some mugs or something.  I dunno.  It's awesome that I could influence any one's business, and that businesses are even reading this damn thing, but still.  Totally wild.

"With great power comes great responsibility."

But back to Harlow's Cafe (hello, Harlow's!  Are you reading this?) and their massive bacon waffle.  It's beyond good.  I hate when people merge food for the sake of being extreme or inventive in a culinary way, but this joint union is something I can get behind.  It's just a waffle.  And a side of bacon.  But now in an easy to eat package.  If they could throw some hash browns and eggs in the mix we'd all be better off as a human race.

I know I should have quit halfway in, but ya know when some thing's really good, and it's almost impossible to quit?  Near the end, you're eating for taste alone.  Your stomach hurts, you start breaking out in a cold sweat and you can actually feel the food sitting in your esophagus.  You know that feeling, right?  Isn't it great? 

So I spent the next four hours on the floor in front of the TV watching movies, trying to keep my body from falling apart or just melting into the floor altogether.  The evolution of man, man. 

Saturdays rule.