Somehow, I'd made it almost 28 years without ever dining at Cracker Barrel. Yesterday, that streak came to an end. What an experience. I think they are actually trying to kill their customers. Order scrambled eggs, and the waitress asks if you want cheese in them. Sure, why not. Cheese in your grits? Indeed. Gravy for your biscuits? Hell yes. Sugar-cured ham? You bet. Lard in your Sprite? Um, I guess so. It's been over 24 hours, and I can still feel my heart pressing against my chest each time it beats. They also had one of those peg-jumping games on every table. Way to know your audience. I doubt 90% of their usual customers could solve that on their best day, let alone once the connection between the brain and hand has been blocked by cholesterol. The rocking chairs for sale outside the restaurant are a nice touch, too. No, don't exercise to work off the meal you just devoured... instead sit down and wait to get fat. And yet, something tells me this won't be my last visit. After all, sugar-cured ham is rather delicious.

On an unrelated note, here's a UK poll on the worst lyrics of all time. How is there no mention of LFO's "Summer Girls" or Hilary Duff's "Wake Up" or Good Charlotte's "Girls and Boys" or Barry Manilow's "I Write the Songs" or anything by Fergie or Limp Bizkit? I could go on, but I won't. Stupid Brits.