For brunch today Star and I hit up Tangie's, a local diner-dive. The decor can be described as tacky-ranch, with lacquered cowboy signs adorning every wall, dispensing sage wisdom such as, "Don't squat with yer spurs on" or "There's many theories about arguin' with a woman... ain't none of em work." The room is trimmed with wallpaper showing horses and steer and lariats, while a whiteboard filled with misspelled daily specials provides the room's focal point. Each table has its own bottle of Arizona Gunslinger Hot Sauce, the first suggestion that maybe the food isn't overly commendable-- which it wasn't, with the notable (and oxymoronic) standard exceptions: home-made soup, scones, and pie. You can walk into any diner in the continental U.S. and order some combination of those three, and you're sure to walk away happy.
The other best thing about Tangie's? As we were getting ready to pay our bill, an older gentleman (in the 70-75 range) sauntered in and plopped himself down in what I can only presume is his standard booth The lone server greeted him with a warm smile and a "Hi Buttface!"
"Hey, Sweet Pea," he grinned back.
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