For those of you that follow All the Yums on Facebook, you might have heard me complain about my wife making me eat zoodles this week so that I don’t develop moobs. Therefore, we were at risk of not having a post this week. Something that I imagine caused a great deal of strife in your perfect lives. But I found a loophole. It’s called, leave early for work and just go to a place. So I went to a place. It’s called Hi-Hat.

And it’s made of sunshine, rainbows and the wonderful smell you get when there are no poor people within a 2 mile radius.

Welcome to a slice of the good life where they won’t throw you out for not being born into the good life.

Ok.

It doesn’t really look like much. But you have to take into account it’s surrounding area. Pembroke, school of your future overlords, presidents and short men wearing those dress shirts that have a different colored collar that only managed to get their much taller and better wives through a bank account balance that ends in damn, son, is right behind it. To the right is a string of shops that deal in art and flowers and has a group of very wealthy looking individuals just sitting around, talking about how good it is to rule you. Or something. But really, this whole area is stuffed full of those well-dressed people you see when you’re randomly not at work and you’re all, what the fuck do they do for a living? It’s like 10:22am. Why aren’t they at work? How does their hair stay like that? How is that 48 year old woman WAY hotter than I am? WHERE DID I GO WRONG IN LIFE?!?!

The Hi-Hat is also very small.

Like, Hobbit hole small.

Like, I hit my head on the doorframe. See the numbers 5012? I have the inverse of it imprinted into my forehead.

It’s like the original builder was like, “Give me a cottage meets Honey I Shrunk the Kids.” or “Give me the Shire meets a Democrat that has Republican money.”

After everyone stared at me, a giant not of their world, smash my head, I super awkwardly took photos.

Notice how close my head was to the celling.

I order a Dirty Chai because, fuck you, that’s why.

While waiting, I see an old photo of the Hi-Hats history.

It was originally a gas station, but in 1901 a great blizzard blew through – stranding prominent members of Skull and Bones and The Priory of Sion. It was there that they decided to use their esoteric knowledge to bring forth a coffeeshop that would elicit the feeling of living in a Hallmark card.

Or something like that. I’m not sure. I’ve eating nothing but zoodles this week and am feeling a little off.

Hey they just called my name!

Here it is. And they made a heart in it. Probably because they’re still scared I’m going to sneeze and blow this place down. But they don’t have anything to fear. I took my allergy medicine this morning and their heart trick worked. I feel loved.

Until I’m met with a service check warning from my car, thrusting me out of this perfect little world they’ve made and into the cold dark reality of being an adult of modest means.