The South

Tonight it was my pleasure to join ER and a new friend, Jessica, for some Steak n' Shake. Jessica, we soon learned, is from the south. As is my nature, I immediately began to ridicule the things about the south I find strange or ridiculous. Chief amongst them is the southern fascination with the Waffle House. Any of you who have ever traveled in the south know what I'm talking about. The giant black letters on the yellow background, inviting you to warmed over eggs, soggy pancakes, burnt bacon, and grits.

What the hell is a grit? The last time I checked, grit was a tecture. Sandpaper is gritty. It's not a food. I asked Jessica, but she was unable to offer a satisfactory answer. All I got out of her was, "It's a part of corn." How anyone can eat something that was once a growth on their foot baffles me...

During the course of our discussion ER revealed to us his "feminine side." Which basically includes the fact that he can't hold his liqour, is into the cutsy kid thing, and watches chic flix. He is the only man I've ever met who freely admits to channel surfing, spotting, "How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days," and making the conscious decision to stop and watch. There are certain sides of ourselves we just shouldn't show people...