A world without brunch would be like a world where Justin Bieber has integrity. It just wouldn’t feel right at all.
Some of you may be aware of how much I love brunch, but for those of you that aren’t let me give you a little idea. If a homeless man stopped me at 3 am at an alleyway and told me he’ll give me a plate of Canadian bacon, eggs, french toast, and spinach quiche if I give him my car keys and Social Security Number I wouldn’t stand there wondering how this man came about this delectable dish at that time of night and how irrational of a trade it is to give him my car and identity; I’d just go for it.
Usually the only time I wake up early enough for brunch is when I have to be up…
It’s a bit of a conundrum at times because on the weekends it’s difficult for me to wake up for brunch time since I’m knocked-the-fuck-out after Friday/Saturday nights. Usually the only time I wake up early enough for brunch is when I have to be up, and if I have to be up it means I must do something that won’t afford me time for awesome eggs benedict. Once I tried making brunch myself and you know what happened? I gave a homeless guy my car and identity. I don’t even know how that happened. Sneaky fucking derelicts.
This Balans is conveniently situated in the heart of Brickell, Miami’s most pompous, douche baguesque yuppie neighborhood. So anyway, I live within walking distance of Balans. I was here on a man-date. Speaking of man-dates, people need to quit that “no homo” bullshit. There’s never a situation where “no homo” is required. Do you think your buddy has a nice jacket and you want to compliment him? Tell him his fucking jacket looks good on him and leave out the “no homo” part. Has he been working out and it’s starting to show so you feel that boosting his self-esteem is something he earned and you want to be a good friend and provide him with that? Tell him he’s looking pretty ripped, sans the “no homo” bullshit. See, there’s nothing homosexual about being a good bro. Now, if you put another man in your mouth or enter him, that’s probably very clearly homosexual, and I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t try to “save” it with a “no homo” so quit that shit. Quit being derisive to the gays, because those fatherfuckers made brunch a thing, and for that I’m eternally grateful.
I had the bacon eggs benedict and a side of multiple orgasms.
So, man-date. We’re here by noon and the pretty waitress tells me brunch lasts all the way until 5. Five! That’s like, brinner. I had the bacon eggs benedict and a side of multiple orgasms. Sure, I’ve had better, but that day I was craving brunch so viciously if I had a kid I’d rename him English Muffin. I topped that shit off with a strawberry-banana smoothie. Here’s the thing about a smoothie that contains banana. They might as well just call it a banana smoothie, because unless the other ingredient is horse semen the only thing you’ll be tasting is banana. We shared a side of pancakes and not French toast because I lost the paper, rock, scissors battle. He drew rock, I drew paper, but he punched me in the face and all I could do was slap. I’m kidding, I didn’t lose to violence, I lost because I suck at that game.
Are there better places for brunch? Yes, but considering this place is open for so long and the food is decent enough this may just become my regular.
People who would enjoy it
People who would not enjoy it
- 901 S Miami Ave
- Miami, FL 33130
- (305) 534-9191