Butter My Buns? Please!

Now this was simply too good to pass up. Sure, it meant standing in front of a gay porn shop long enough to get the picture, but I think all the passing giggles were well worth the effort. Besides, I wasn't alone - Ariana was right by my side.

We came across this while hunting for a place to eat last night. We had meant to go to La Bonbonniere, supposedly one of the better places in the city to get breakfast, but ended up 14 streets north of our destination. We told the cabbie "28th and 8th"...but in actuality it was 28 8th Ave. See how a little thing like an extra "th" makes a world of difference? Details Kris, details.

We ended up in Chelsea, not exactly the only straight couple in the area but certainly in the minority, and meandered around in search of a replacement restaurant. We found it, and I had the perfect plate of over-medium eggs (you'd be surprised how difficult it is to find someone who knows how to properly cook huevos). I wish I could remember the name of the place because I'd like to go back, but alas... I can not.

Guess I'll have to look for the "Boy Buttter" sign if I ever hope to eat there again.