Here’s the story of shouting, troubles, and bacon.
Why aren’t my bloody sausages browning! For God’s sake, they’ve been in the bloody oven for half a bloody hour. It clearly states that they will only take ten minutes from frozen in a pre-heated oven. I filled my end of the bargain, mate, why aren’t you filling yours, Mr. Oven? Admittedly, shouting at the oven in some weird attempt to make it cook my sausages isn’t the brightest idea I’ve ever had. But this is what men do. Shout at things and hope they start working. I once made my television come on this way. Still, at least my sausages eventually cooked. They tasted rather a lot nicer than that mould I ate on Friday…
I’m home alone for a few days, so, as has become tradition, I fill my body with as much junk as possible. Dad would never allow such a thing whilst he was here, but he’s not here, so say hello to a dinner of bacon and sausages. Specifically, sausages I wrapped in bacon. But it wasn’t completely unhealthy, readers. I mean, I put the unholy union between two slices of bread. And I’m fairly sure ‘bread’ is one of our five a day. I’ve never seen pigs in blankets between two slices of bread before, slathered in ketchup, but I highly recommend it.
You may be wondering what kind of lunatic has this for ‘dinner’. I mean, it’s not very filling, for a start, right? Well, maybe, but I did have a slice of trifle afterwards. So I do eat healthy stuff occasionally. I mean, okay, I took all the strawberries out because strawberries are disgusting, but I left the rest of the stuff in.
I was going to have some pasta, which sure, sounds like a healthier option, but my pasta is often slathered in so much cheese, it becomes more cheese than pasta. I decided to have some pasta on the night for my supper. But something was wrong. It tasted like fish. But I was hungry so I kept eating and put it down to my horrific cooking skills. Turns out, the cheese was covered in mould. I did not have a good night’s sleep…
The problem is that we have a new kitchen and I don’t really know where anything is or how to use any of the appliances. I mean, the microwave doesn’t have a defrost setting, yet the oven does. But I thought it was the strangest, most unusual thing imaginable to defrost bread in an oven. So I just bunged the bread in the microwave, switched on the normal setting and left it for a minute. I mean, sure, it was a bit soggy, but still, it was no longer frozen, so it was a win in my book.
In case you’re wondering what unhealthy concoction I cooked up for my dinner the following day, I’ll have you know it was much, much healthier. Four huge pork chops and a shit load of fries. I think that’s a technical term. Oh, and lots of lovely thick gravy, too. I thought I’d give my heart a rest for a day. I’m generous like that…
Oh sure, some would say that this isn’t the world’s greatest diet, but well, put it this way. If you eat nothing but salad, you’ll live to 70. If you eat nothing but bacon, you’ll live to 40. But if you eat nothing but salad, you’ll spend 70 years utterly miserable. But if you eat nothing but bacon for 40 years, you’ll spend 40 years in ecstasy. I mean, I prefer I short life well lived over a long life spent sad. Some would argue that there’s more to life than food, but I’d argue that that is blasphemous. I’d also like to say that I think salad tastes like cardboard, in case you’re wondering why I’m hating on salad so much. I mean, if God gave us bacon, the devil gave us salad.
Life isn’t entirely food related at the moment, though. No, I’ve had other troubles, too. I mean, I woke up one day this week with a huge cut across my foot that really wasn’t there when I went to bed. Bit of a mystery, that one. It was agony wearing my shoes the next day. So when I got to work, I took them off. It wasn’t even discrete, readers. Everyone knew I wasn’t wearing my shoes, but nobody questioned it. I took off both shoes because I thought I’d look a bit silly only wearing one. As opposed to wearing none, but my options were limited.
I didn’t even have much luck after work, either. I was sat at the bus stop and a homeless man came up to me and asked me if I was okay. “Are you okay, mate? Are you okay? I’m here for you. I can help you.” Then he put his arm around me and told me I wasn’t alone. Sure, strange things like this happen from time to time. But this was the sixth homeless person to come up to me this year and ask me if I was okay.
It does make you wonder if you’re giving off a ‘not okay’ vibe. I am okay. I mean, I am absolutely shattered. All the time. Work is very, very tough. My foot is really hurting. My food is all mouldy. And my face is basically turning into one giant spot. But apart from all that, no, I’m hunky-dory…
Now, if you don’t mind, I’m extremely tired and I have some mouldy cheese to scrape off a container.
American novelist and teacher, Thomm Quackenbush (b. 1980), once wrote: ‘Ethically, she couldn’t cause the suffering of any living thing. Logically, bacon cheeseburgers were delicious.’
Peace Out :|:
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