Crapaway

So pumped right now. I don't know why coffee does this to me but my mind is so filled with everything, its like someone has injected thoughts into my brain like a drug. So I said it I'm on drugs, if thoughts were drugs.

It's made me want chinese, the caffeine I mean. Some spicy shezwan beef, with the little carrot slices sauteed in some asian cocktail of perfection. oooh yes please. My other roommate was telling me about some chinese porridge that they apparently put a funky egg into. I'll find out more details about that and let you know soon. Back to the chinese; I'm in the library trying to convince my roommate to order takeout but she wont respond, why must she do this to me?

My desire for chinese has been growing since last night when I mistakenly detoured to Crapaway, excuse me Crepeaway, the mediocre crepe ( gourmet taco restaurant in disguise) restaurant located on Waverly Place. It stays open till three in the morning every night so that drunk college students can roll in and get their fill on thick undesireable tortillas filled with an extraneous amount of nutella. They offer you a number of options ranging from savory to sweet, but their savory crepes are usually loaded with harsh meats that drown out both the textures and tastes of anything else they choose to "decorate" it with - cheese's, vegetables, etc - and their sweet crepes are deliriously decadent and a prank waiting to happen. I ordered the simba - a sack of diarrhea mixed with melted chocolate chips and peanut butter sauce or something. The chocolate chips melted instantly and turn into a more watery less appealing version of nutella and I found myself in a puddle which was disgusting, needless to say.

On a more positive note, their Rusty's arent bad persay - a crepe with butter and brown sugar - but I wouldn't say they're worth six bucks, not that anything really is, in New York.
Going to Eataly tomorrow. More later.