Eggs Benny – you’re a hungover FIFO worker who is about to take a mid-brekkie break to make a Dome toilet the scene of a 25 Jack can bowelageddon. You stick-of-butter sack of shit.
Bacon & eggs – you’re so salty that Sarah Jessica Parker tries to lick you after a trot around the brekkie table. You don’t want to admit it but poorly cooked bacon & eggs is the height of your culinary ability.
Big brekkie – you probably fancy yourself the hashbrown in the cafe of life. Golden, glorious, and wanted. Alas, you’re really more like the tomato. No one knows why you’re there and you’re always picked last. You definitely order a long mac topped up.
Full English – tell you what’s not in the spirit of cricket, your cholesterol levels. Moreso, you care more about baked beans than any other person on earth. Most consider them a chore not a highlight.
Leftovers – you don’t subscribe to societal expectations to eat certain foods at certain times. Smashing a cold bowl of last night’s curry while you flick through your shameful drunk texts is par for the course. You’re a pioneer if anything.
Acai Bowl – you’re the reason IG became so popular. Your belief everyone needs to see your breakfast fuelled a new age of social media. You’re the answer to the question – If an acai bowl is served but not uploaded then was it even #breakfastgoals?
Floating brekkie – you’re an influencer in Canggu who is trying to fool your followers into thinking you weren’t twerking on a tatted-up Turbo fuckstick last night and indeed live a pure, wholesome, elite life.
Another pinga – breakfast of champions. You have once again chosen to disregard the temptation of a productive weekend and will almost certainly collapse into a pool of anxious sweat later in the day. Even that second carton of Cruisers can’t save you.
Bunnings sausage sizzle – a true double dogging gourmand. One to fuel your assault on Bunnings as you crop dust through the aisles and a second to get you through the car ride home so you can leap into your “project” with gusto. Which is a fancy explanation for managing to put an angle grinder through its own cord.
Vegemite on toast – like a surfer scoping the North Shore for the perfect wave you are always on the hunt for the perfect spread. You’re chasing that high from 2005 when you got the butter to Vegemite ratio so perfect that you made a mess of your pants.
Avo on toast – you’re currently locked in a negotiation with your landlord who is trying to raise the rent by 200 pw despite making you live in a place that makes Chernobyl look homely. Just kidding, if you can afford avo on toast at a cafe these days you must be ballin’.
Cereal (adult) – doesn’t take much to get you talking about the perfect snap in the morning, does it? Probably a good thing to be concerned with gut health but the connotations of being the turdmeister general can be a little unsettling. Your favourite biscuit is the choc-coated Digestive.
Cereal (child) – it’s hard to pinpoint exactly what went wrong in your development. Some might say it’s the 15 bongs a day. Others might suggest that you never gave up on the Cheez TV life. Either way, you do you, man.
Pancakes – speaking of childish indulgences, three kinds of people eat pancakes – the chick dealing with her 5th break-up for the year, the man who still sleeps in a race car bed or a full-blown meathead on cheat day. There isn’t much in between.
Waffles – it might be breakfast food but it’s also the secret to your past dating success. You lived and died by the half price Gelare waffles and frankly, if you were to become single again you’d be Bumble’s most waffly kent.
Crepes – la di da, check out who went on a 2 week Contiki tour around France. Tell us more about how Nutella is better in Europe. Seriously, you’re the sort of person to pronounce Ibiza with a strong th but not give us anything on Barcelona. Check yourself.
Dart & iced coffee – you’re either a tradie giving off strong “fuckoff” vibes on smoko or you’re milling around the front of the Magistrates Court working on your story that you were indeed sorry for taking a baseball bat to a multinova on South St.
Large can of Monster – the ol’ Belmont baby formula. You’re a mess. Pure & simple. Likely a hospo worker or a dentist’s best customer if you’d ever actually go to one. Sort your life out, mate.
Nothing – you can’t stomach solid food but you can drink 4 coffees and send yourself into a panic by 10 am. You probably consider yourself a fasting pro. If only you didn’t eat 4 times the recommended portion for dinner you might be onto something.
Documenting the Human Zoo is thirsty work, so if you enjoyed what you read how about buying Belle a beer, ay?