Sunday, I arrived fashionably late to brunch at the original Atkins Park and was exiled to the far end of the table. I was not ecstatic about sitting with people I do not know. I was also not particularly interested in getting to know them. Instead of striking up a conversation, I turned my attention to checking out the hot blonde waitress. My reverie was interrupted when a tight blonde with glasses came in and sat down next to me. I dig the sexy librarian look. I decided exile might not so bad after all.

Despite our large group service was, for the most part, remarkably quick and smooth. My black and blue burger was exquisitely cooked, but still could not match the fine examples served up by The Earl or Hand in Pants. No matter, there is no shame in cooking up a third place burger.

Paying the bill was an absolute disaster. The aforementioned waitress had a terrible time splitting up the bill and managed to lose my credit card. Good thing she’s pretty. Management came through and hooked me up with a gift certificate for my trouble, thus depriving all five Prizzo Skeezy readers of a patented rant. I recommend Atkins Park.