Yesterday, Allison and I decided to hit brunch. I like brunch. It gives me a great opportunity to not only test the effectiveness of my Lipitor prescription with a near-unlimited supply of sausage and bacon, but I also have the potential to hone my wicked-mad ninja skills on an omelette chef as he charges and slashes at me with a gleaming cheese knife and a frothy mouth.
"I'd like some of this, oooh.. And that. Hey! Those green onions look good. Are they good? You didn't get them from Chi-Chi's did you? Those scallions almost killed Pennsylvania, I think. Is that Gruyere? Is that crab meat fresh? I've been poisoned a lot this week. Got it? Oh yeah. No need to dazzle me with your flipping skills. I'm not impressed. I've been making omelettes since you were... well... since YOU yourself were an egg, cowboy. Easy on the butter. I'll be over at that bucket of bacon. Yee-haw!"
Of course, as I sat down with a plate of omelette, sausages, toast, and another plate of bacon (there may have been a sweet roll in there somewhere, but its existence is something of a blur), the delightful woman sitting across from me just sort of stared blankly with one eye twitching.
"Got enough to eat?" she asked as she nibbled on her lobster eggs benedict. "Would you like me to fetch you the head off the goose ice-sculpture for you to gnaw on?"
"Don't be silly," I said. "It's a swan. Not a goose."
"Got enough bacon?" She asked.
"I hope so." I replied. "It's all they had left."
"Yeah," she sighed between bites. "Think you'll have enough with the twenty pieces you have, or should I ask them to bring out more?"
Hey! It's not my fault. If you put me in a place with a sign displaying "All You Can Eat," I'm going to see that as a challenge. And, when that challenge includes bacon, I'll double up on the Lipitor and give it an honest effort. I will either get full (yeah right!), or, more likely, my heart will explode like bad plumbing. But, I will go with a smile on my face. I swear, I ate so much bacon that day that the frothy little omelette chef could have met me in the parking lot, stuck me straight in the heart with that cheese knife, and that wound would have instantly sealed itself.
On top of that, brunch was Allison's idea. I wanted to stay home and make blueberry pancakes. So, if anything, she's an enabler for my tremendous addiction to artery-straining pork products.