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Brian Matuszak column: Rise, shine, and drink some coffee

So what did you have for breakfast today? Oatmeal? Quiche? Egg McBurrito? Yeah, me neither. I have never been a big breakfast guy, which is really strange when you consider how I was raised. Every Sunday after we got home from church, my dad woul...

Brian Matuszak
Brian Matuszak

So what did you have for breakfast today? Oatmeal? Quiche? Egg McBurrito? Yeah, me neither. I have never been a big breakfast guy, which is really strange when you consider how I was raised. Every Sunday after we got home from church, my dad would dig out this huge, ancient griddle with a cooking surface the size of ten AlBrook football fields. He'd plug it in, then after a few minutes of pre-heating, he'd plop down a thick glob of butter which melted faster than a wicked witch and covered the entire griddle in a slick, yellow sheen. Finally, Dad left no inch of that greasy surface uncovered as he threw down a delicious, artery-busting combination of fried eggs, bacon slabs, sausage links, mounds of hash browns, and maybe even a stack or two of pancakes. Soon, our kitchen was busting to the seams with the mouthwatering smells of a Big Weekend Dad Breakfast.

During the week, however, Mom was in charge and while she didn't have the time that a weekend provides, she still managed to get some dandy food down our collective gullet. It might have been as simple as milk splashed onto a bowlful of sugar-coated Frosty Smacks, but it worked. In the winter, Mom would make it easier on herself by whipping up a huge pan of Coco Wheats, a thick, jiggling concoction which could be scooped up and plooped down into bowls rather quickly. (Don't forget to top it all off with the subtle flavor combination of butter, sugar, and more butter.) It was fast, it was easy, and it was a delectable way to start a day.

Unfortunately, I did not get any of these breakfast tradition genes. I know, I know, they say it's "the

most important meal of the day" yada yada yada. But those Einsteins also have ridiculous bromides such as "don't count your chickens

before they're hatched," "stay off of my lawn", and "23 skee-doo!", so how much can we really rely on them for advice on our morning repast?

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Truth is, the idea of food in the AM just doesn't appeal to me. I am more ravenous for my caffeine fix, so a huge mug of coffee is the first order of business for me after I arise. (Well, second order of business. My REAL first order of business is actually "emptying the pantry," if you will, which then gets repeated as my third, fourth, and fifth orders of business AFTER drinking several gallons of the aforementioned second order of business. But I digress ... in an unbecoming manner.) Don't get me wrong. If someone goes to the trouble to prepare a yummy mountain of grease for me, I will partake, but that's because I didn't have to make it. I find it's easier to eat food than to cook food. I mean, we're talking about a person (me) who considers it too arduous a task to rip open a Pop-Tart; cracking an egg would probably lead me to Tommy John surgery. ("I'm sorry, Sue, but your husband needs extensive physical therapy after his trilateral bicep tendon exploded. No more risking that whisking."). And don't get me started on how labor intensive Carnation (supposedly) Instant Breakfast can be. No, around our house, we have the same motto as a zombie at the North Pole:

"If it ain't frozen, it ain't breakfast."

Brian Matuszak has been difficult and demanding since February 2008. He is the co-founder of Renegade Comedy Theatre, founder of Rubber Chicken Theater, and, all seriousness aside, enjoys a nice banana first thing in the morning. If only he could pay someone to pre-peel it for him.

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