If you've read any of my rants…you know I hate clowns. So…what do we do? We eat breakfast at Pancake Circus. Ugh…everything I feared except thankfully the waitress was not dressed as a clown.

When you're on the road…food choices are critical. One bad move and you're incapacitated for days. So for the Pancake Circus…I'll get two scrambled eggs, a plain waffle, grapefruit juice, and hot water for my own tea. Yep…it was a good call…I'll live to eat another day.

Our road manager Chris has more hatred and fear of clowns than myself. He didn't order any food, and even left to go sit in the van.

Peat and Steve thought our creeped-outedness was funny. Steve even bought a Pancake Circus t-shirt to commemorate the occasion. Does anyone know what the specific psychological fear of clowns is called? CreepyClownaphobia?