Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Apartment life
Just got word that our apartment complex wants to jack our rent up by $240/month. Did the apartment suddenly get bigger? Did a washer and dryer suddenly appear in the apartment? How does one justify that much of an increase? Damn you Debt! If it wasn't for you I would be buying a house right now!
Sunday, February 6, 2011
How Bacon broke my heart and ruined my day.
I love pork. All kinds of pork. Of all the meat out there, the one that I could never give up is pork. And when it comes to pork, there is no form that it is more appealing in, than bacon.
Now bacon (or bahkyonee as Jamie loves to hear it pronounced) is something that is very near-and-dear to my heart and I don't just mean all the cholesterol. I've always felt that it was perfect. It is, after all, the food that makes all other food better. Don't believe me? Have you ever had a lettuce and tomato sandwich? No. Because that would be fucking boring. Slap some bacon on it though, and it's delicious! Want some eggs for breakfast? No? How about bacon and eggs? And if you even offer me a club sandwich (not to be confused with Joanna's christmas club sandwich) without bacon on it you are in for a half hour tirade about how, by definition, a club sandwich has bacon on it.
Now, my love affair with bacon can probably be traced back to my childhood. Whenever we would visit my maternal grandparents in the deep hills (suburbs) of Chattanooga, TN, my grandfather would wake up earlier than anyone else just so he could attempt to cook bacon and sausage faster than I could eat it. I was 4. He never succeeded. I think the frustration of it all might be what killed him, but I digress.
Flash forward about a dozen years or so and I met the girl who eventually became my wife. The first time I had breakfast with her and her family (all proper meat lovers like me) and I saw her dredge her bacon through maple syrup I was appalled. I remember thinking "Sweet bacon?!?! Only if it's also smothered in course black pepper!" but I kept my mouth shut as she was my ride home.
Today my world changed and the spell might just be broken. Joanna and I went to a restaurant that opened up across from where I work and I ordered a burger with guacamole, green chilies, sour cream (?) and of course, my beloved bacon. The food got to the table, I took a bite, and was immediately grossed out. I knew the problem was that there was something sweet on my burger that was just out of place. At first I figured it was the sour cream, because really, who puts sour cream on a hamburger? But that wasn't it. Guacamole? Nope. That tasted just fine. Maybe they are using sweet green chilies....well they're actually a little spicy. So after deciding that I wasn't going to be able to eat the burger, I figured I would just eat the bacon off of it and be done. And then I was horrified. What if, it was the bacon that was in fact the problem? I tentatively took a nibble of one of the pieces only to make a terrifying discovery: Maple. Smoked. Bacon. I told Joanna, she reached across the table to try a piece of my bacon and she said it was yummy. Well that settled that. If Joanna likes this bacon it must be bad. I pulled all the rest off my burger and suddenly, it became tolerable. How on earth do you manage to turn bacon into the worst part of the meal? Ugh. I am never eating there again.
Now bacon (or bahkyonee as Jamie loves to hear it pronounced) is something that is very near-and-dear to my heart and I don't just mean all the cholesterol. I've always felt that it was perfect. It is, after all, the food that makes all other food better. Don't believe me? Have you ever had a lettuce and tomato sandwich? No. Because that would be fucking boring. Slap some bacon on it though, and it's delicious! Want some eggs for breakfast? No? How about bacon and eggs? And if you even offer me a club sandwich (not to be confused with Joanna's christmas club sandwich) without bacon on it you are in for a half hour tirade about how, by definition, a club sandwich has bacon on it.
Now, my love affair with bacon can probably be traced back to my childhood. Whenever we would visit my maternal grandparents in the deep hills (suburbs) of Chattanooga, TN, my grandfather would wake up earlier than anyone else just so he could attempt to cook bacon and sausage faster than I could eat it. I was 4. He never succeeded. I think the frustration of it all might be what killed him, but I digress.
Flash forward about a dozen years or so and I met the girl who eventually became my wife. The first time I had breakfast with her and her family (all proper meat lovers like me) and I saw her dredge her bacon through maple syrup I was appalled. I remember thinking "Sweet bacon?!?! Only if it's also smothered in course black pepper!" but I kept my mouth shut as she was my ride home.
Today my world changed and the spell might just be broken. Joanna and I went to a restaurant that opened up across from where I work and I ordered a burger with guacamole, green chilies, sour cream (?) and of course, my beloved bacon. The food got to the table, I took a bite, and was immediately grossed out. I knew the problem was that there was something sweet on my burger that was just out of place. At first I figured it was the sour cream, because really, who puts sour cream on a hamburger? But that wasn't it. Guacamole? Nope. That tasted just fine. Maybe they are using sweet green chilies....well they're actually a little spicy. So after deciding that I wasn't going to be able to eat the burger, I figured I would just eat the bacon off of it and be done. And then I was horrified. What if, it was the bacon that was in fact the problem? I tentatively took a nibble of one of the pieces only to make a terrifying discovery: Maple. Smoked. Bacon. I told Joanna, she reached across the table to try a piece of my bacon and she said it was yummy. Well that settled that. If Joanna likes this bacon it must be bad. I pulled all the rest off my burger and suddenly, it became tolerable. How on earth do you manage to turn bacon into the worst part of the meal? Ugh. I am never eating there again.
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