A Cheesy Baby Day

Have you ever heard of a baby day? This is the kind of day in which you can’t do anything except for the things babies do best: eat, sleep and poop. Yes men, even baby girls poop. Baby days for adults are usually inflicted by a large intake of alcohol. For me I think they come from parlant français…I’m too classy to drink that much. (winkie face emoji) 

Saturday was 100% a baby day for me, Bowinkle and the Polish Princess (one of our other roomies). We started off by all climbing into my dog bed, in my dog room and recapping the night and the random texts from random people we met throughout the night. Polish princess even received a Tinder a screenshot of a topless Jew2 with an accompanying “you’re sexy” text.  Amazing. 


Then we met the Polish King(Polish Princess’ Papa) for a royally grand breakfast at The Griddle. 

The most amazing, largest pancakes/french toast around. We sat and devoured this glorious meal with no shame. Which is surprising because apparently that joint only employes good looking men. This was something we usually would have thought about, but on a baby day eating takes priority over finding a man to be your Sunday boyfiend (someone to cuddle and take care of you on a Sunday). There were even famous chicks there (some girl, from some MTV show) that we couldn’t be bothered with because we just NEEDED our food. After about 15 coffees and that glutinous french toast above, we left and decided to venture towards Santa Monica. We had our suits on and were ready for our new ritualed beach nap, but on the way there we heard it was over cast and 

Imagemade a quick turn around for the Ralph’s to buy supplies to then to spend the rest of the day embracing our baby state. 

We bought vodka and 10 limes for $1 in case we rallied, popcorn and Pirate’s booty(incase we couldn’t figure out the popcorn). We then attempted to make homemade popcorn because Bowinkle is from Vermont and says it’s better for the environment and your body. #hippieshit This attempt lead to scowling hot popcorn kernels shooting all over the house and some dank popcorn. After a serious nap on our glorious sofa we decided it was time to get up from our baby state and google “The best Mac and Cheese in LA,” so that we could make a full on recovery. We pulled it together and headed to Pete’s Cafe for the 6th best Mac and Cheese in town. I know you’re thinking, “hmm thats weird why not the number one?” Well, number 6 was closest to the ghetto.

We got to Pete’s after we found a glorious free parking spot and sat down only to find “Cheese Squeaks” on menu. After chatting it up with our cutie of a waiter about our Cheese eating hangover recovery method we ordered Cheese Squeaks(baby mozzarella sticks) and Mac and Cheese. We enjoyed while shamelessly letting our waiter know we were desperate for friends. After munching hard we left our number for him and made a quick gettaway. 

Needless to say, cheese will always bring people together, in on a Baby Day. See ya next weekend Cheese Squeak. (I really don’t know his real name.) Let the friend making continue.



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