What did I put in my mouth?

My travel plans mildly disrupted, I'm still in Houston partially out of my aversion to the long haul back home, but mostly because it's nicer here than it is in Phoenix right now. But it's been a while, and I've been pretty buried in getting my Objective-C and iPhone SDK skills up to snuff, so today I woke up with a bad case of ants in the pants.

First stop was a local indie coffee joint with 4.5 stars on Yelp and described in reviews as "quaint" and quiet, with plenty of room to yourself. I pictured a tackily decorated joint kinda like the Willow House. (Any incarnation of it.) Confirmed yet again that "quaint" in this part of Houston means, "in a strip mall." But I got a $2 double espresso that wasn't half bad.

I continued on my quest to find a breakfast spot. I wanted a Matt's Big Breakfast, an Orange Table, even a Coco's. I passed an IHOP and a Denny's before Michael (via IM as I cried about the dearth of breakfast options) suggested this odd little house I'd passed further up the road.

I went in and was confronted by two African-American ladies that immediately put me in mind of the misadventure we had a couple of weeks ago at the Beauty Supply Superstore, in which the lone white lady cashier quickly escorted us to an isolated part of the store before informing us that, "We really only carry things for (black) people, and (black) skin care. Even I don't buy anything for myself here." (Black) being whispered so low I couldn't hear her, not as a substitution for anything wicked.

But they seemed friendly enough and I was starved so I examined the rack. Houston has a strange propensity for stuffing things into a fully enclosed wad of dough. Kolaches I guess, but wtf, I call it a freaking sweet roll filled with yuck. This place had freaking sweet rolls filled with bacon egg and cheese so I gave it a try.

My mistake was in paying with $1 coins, of which I still have hundreds. The previously aloof cashier burst into a monologue about how she's been saving currency for years and years, but then meandered to her 11-year career with the CIA and then to her 35-year old son who's not fathered any children ("but isn't gay, thank God, he loves women!") to her belief that she just focuses on today and the Lord will take care of tomorrow, to how she has procrastinated getting her teeth fixed for a year and a half now. (It actually meandered a lot more than that, and I appreciate ludicrous situations so I sat there and listened. I could easily fill a couple of pages with all the crap she blurted out to me.)

I finally escaped and made my way to Houston's Chinatown. I don't know how I-10 here turns into a toll road, but somehow it does, so I mostly accomplished this via winding surface streets. And there I acquired my find of the day... fresh (umm) rambutan and lychee fruit! I've seen plenty of rambutan in photos, and I've had various processed lychee products, but never have I seen either fresh so I splurged on some of each.

Rambutan can be lovely to look at. See?

I will spare you a photo of the ones I purchased, but let's just say they look a bit less vibrant and aren't terribly flavorful. Fortunately, I did land some sort of frozen durian treat which scratched my itch for exotic fruit... and then some peculiar kimchi gyoza-style dumplings (I know, weird) that are pretty tasty too.

But since I couldn't abandon the iPhone development stuff for the whole day, I ended up at the most horrible Starbucks I have ever patronized for an hour and a half. Free wifi, is great, but between an obnoxious old man with phlegm issues and the uncontrollable 4-year old boy who appeared shortly afterwards, I had my fill of humans and retreated back to the house.