Actually, marginally less of each.
So I just made some bacon and eggs for dinner. Somehow, I fucked it up. My bacon, which I microwaved, was undercooked. My toast, burned. My eggs? Oh, what a fine story the eggs have given me. Our stove has knobs which turn opposite to what I'm used to (they go counter-clockwise), so instead of nearly medium, I'm cooking at nearly inferno. If anyone has ever cooked with me (very few have), you'll know that watching me in the kitchen is no doubt hilfuckinglarious. The second the eggs hit the pan, they spat at me, horrible hot spits, not unlike the dilophosaurus in Jurassic Park. My reaction to this is quick and female, to book it and hide. Gaining some confidence (and a hoodie), I approached the eggs once more, with spatula in hand. I figure, 'alright, almost ready, good to go', and as I try to flip the eggs...I can't. Did I put any butter, margarine, oil, Pam, anything in the pan pre-egg drop? No. So, shit, my eggs, they're burning. I manage to chop around the edges and flip them, once again unleashing hell's saliva everywhere. Another squeal, dive, return, and my eggs are done. So I carry the pan to the counter to slide my eggs onto my charcoal toast, and don't I touch a plastic bag with the pan? Melts goddamn plastic to the outside of the pan. 'Oh, shits!' I think. I repeat this thought as I try to touch the plastic with my hand. Perhaps I've been out of school for far too long, but I'll say this here once and once only: plastic, when melted to a pan, is hot. Also, when plastic dries, it will take paint with it. Jesus. Our only pan in the apartment, ruined.
After all the hassle, what does the result of all this look like?
Just be happy that you didn't have to eat it. Fittingly, Dumb and Dumber is being shown on TBS. Oh, and Elaine is going to kill me for ruining her pan.
I'm in deep shit.
Well, as long as I'm alive for at least a few more hours, I might as well update you kids on what's up.
Oh, I'm engaged. Pretty much everyone who reads this already knows that, but there you go. Elaine, my fiancee, is probably the most tolerant, smart, beautiful, funny girl you'll ever meet. All I asked for was tolerance, and I ended up getting the world. 21 years of being unlucky karma-lized into Elaine, if you can make sense of that. See? Even when she's not here she's turning me into an incoherent idiot.
Shortly after the engagement, Christmas followed. There was much family, food, rejoicing, gift-giving, and the like.
Fast-forward to the 23rd of January, Bon Jovi Day. What a bloody awesome show. Since I was a brainwashed runt in the late 80s/early 90s (thanks to my sister and MTV), I've dreamed of seeing Jon Bon live. Well, maybe not dreamed, moreso really hoped. Anyhow, Elaine and I went. Apart from seeing Jon Bon and Richie make eyes at each other (perhaps the reason why Richie and Heather Locklear are splitting?), the show was nuts. Easily the best stage performance I've seen by a band in a long time, if not ever.
What really floored me was the opening act. Q107 ran a contest for local bands, four would be chosen and each band would open for one of Bon Jovi's shows. The band that came out for ours, Mulholland Drive, was nothing short of amazing. I hope they get a break, at the very least the lead singer should. He's 16, voice deeper than Jonny Lang and could probably give Richie a guitar lesson.
Ah hell, I think Elaine's arriving home soon, I'd better get some excuses together for ruining her pan.
(Afterthought: I am actually a decent cook, which is why the whole debacle drove me nuts. Not sure if I was clear about that or not. - Dan at 1:00am)
Moment of Zen: "The plot revolves around the Empress of Time, who lives on the Island of Time where the Sands (all together now) OF TIME were created."