My new band name.
The first time I remember reading the phrase “a whore’s breakfast” was in Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood. Are you old enough to remember when that book was a thing? Good. As I vaguely recall, some mean bastard husband (are there any other kind?) said that to his wife when she and the kids were having birthday cake for breakfast.
I loved the phrase, especially because I’ve been eating cake for breakfast ever since I learned to count calories. Instead of smashing all my calories into an enormous dinner, I often save the dessert for the next day. I don’t like feeling full at bedtime, and it’s fun to look forward to cake (or pie, if you’re one of the weirdos who prefer pie to cake) in the AM.
(Sometimes I have dessert instead of dinner just to mix it up. Yes, I am a wild and crazy chick.)
Urban Dico says that a whore’s breakfast is coffee and a cigarette though. Or possibly a Coke. Hmm. Those just sound like high school breakfasts to me. Not that being in HS and being a whore have to be mutually exclusive.
I prefer to think of cake, especially birthday cake, as the true whore’s breakfast. It’s just so decadent and anti-traditional. Goes against everything your mom told you was Right & Good.
My bosses bought a delicious red velvet cake for my birthday Wednesday and I had a leftover piece for breakfast. Soooo good!
I hope my pairing of whore and cake in the same poast generates a whole bunch of new bloghits and readers!