Crepes are shit

I am interrupting my Comic Con posting to discuss the shit hole Crepes to Go. Every day I torture myself and those who eat with me by deliberating on where to have dinner. If figuring the main course wasn't painful enough I seem to have a knack for not knowing where to have dessert either. God forbid it's the same place. Last night I was driving around LA trying to figure out where my sweet toof was going to be satisfied when my friend mentioned going to the Crepe Nazi. Before I go any further, let me preface this story by saying I hate crepes as much as Ricky Bobby. They make no sense. Sure give me one with some fruit in it and I can pretend it is a thin pancake, but try filling it with seafood and you have blown my mind. I don't go for the whole savory experience. I feel bad for the lobster jammed inside the crepe. It has to feel as out of place as I used to in gym class. So knowing I already have a chip on my shoulder about thin pancakes I should have said I will pass but instead I let curiosity get the better of me.
"Crepe Nazi?"
"Yeah, some hole in the wall crepe place on Sawtelle where the chef yells at you if you don't know your order in advance. There are no questions to be asked. You order, give money, and return when it is done."
"Fine, let's try it."

We pull up to the crepe place and the first thing I notice is the sign that states you should not enter without knowing your order. Only idiots and children can come in without being ready. Well I am a man child who is also an idiot so I really should have gotten a pass.

I walked in and ordered:
"I will have a pumpkin pie crepe and an apple crepe"
"We are out of pumpkin pie!!"
"Make it an apple and a peach"
"Okay return in twenty minutes. I do not want to see you until then"

I walk outside and wait patiently. Five minutes go by when the Crepe Nazi rang a bell. I look around and since there were no other customers I figure he finished early. I walked in to the crepe equivalent of Joseph Goebbels screaming:
"What did I tell you. TWENTY MINUTES!!!"

I scurried out in shame. I was so embarrassed that when the crepes were finally done I sent my friend to get them. Here is the worst part. For all the abuse I can't even report the crepes were good. They were ice cold and the fruit was out of a can. I don't even think it was canned fruit. I just think he had some dirty can full of cigarette butts and rancid peaches. I want this douche to go out of business. The store next door told me that the police have been called on several occasions by customers assaulted with a spatula. That reminds me of another story that I will tell in therapy.

There is one redeemable thing about this Nazi. This sign was hanging on his door:

WTF!!!