The buffet’s food—while hot and plentiful—was usually terrible. The bacon was flaccid and annoyed, the eggs despondent, the pancakes in need of a spa day and a therapy session, the French toast sticks trapezoidal and impenetrable, the fruit fishy, the fish fruity, and the sausage gravy looked too much like spunk to even try. You’d see it and you’d wonder how many East End sperm banks were missing samples.
(Eat'n Park in Squirrel Hill)
