Going out for breakfast

I am not a morning person. I normally eat breakfast at about 1pm. So when people are like, "Let's go out to breakfast!" I always ask, "When? Denny's probably still open at three in the morning and I've never been to a Waffle House. I've heard from Jim Gaffigan that they are like a convenience store bathroom that sells waffles."
"I think when should go to breakfast at 8:30 or 9am ish."
"You mean after I have slept?!" Who really wants to eat waffles when they're hung over? and much less between the hours of five and 10 am?
No matter, I'm a fattie; I like food, but I also like sleep. So it is a conundrum. On the one hand I could go out and eat food that I didn't have to make and spend time with people when I am at my worst and the least charming, or I could sleep and not expose these people to sober, half-awake me.
When my parents take me out to breakfast, it's more for a free meal than actual conversation and enjoying people's company. We normally go to some sort of greasy spoon place that is well know for it's quantity and not quality of food, and a majority of the customers qualify for AARP, but I'll eat most anything, especially if it's free.
Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, you need your daily intake of grease and sugar.
While I was visiting a couple of friends in Scotland, I ate breakfast at the Cafe Wanderer in Glasgow, where my friend Tim was working. Wanting to experience the culture, I ordered the traditional Scottish Breakfast and when had finished my meal and was walking up the hill to the Kelvingrove Museum, I could feel the blood in my veins struggling to get through. When a traditional breakfast consists of everything being fried and covered with extra bacon grease it's no wonder that you can feel your heart slowing down as you eat it. The highlight of the meal was the black pudding, which my friend Tim described as, "like eating a scab" and the potato scones, which, unlike the sweet, sugary, dry scone that we have here, the potato scone is like a McDonalds' hash brown, but fried in so much oil that you could have burned it and used it as a source of light in a power failure. Maybe that's what the Scots did when they first got to Scotland, it gets dark pretty early there in January.