Yesterday was such an awesome day. Even though my boyfriend did NOT win the Daytona 500. He came in 9th, for those of you who care. I was just excited that Tony Stewart lost in the final lap. Mean, I know. But I despise him with the fire of a thousand suns. We made a ton of snacky-snacks and just pigged out all day.
It was rockin’.
I just got off the phone with my Bubba, he had left a message earlier telling me he had a funny story involving hard boiled eggs. Naturally, I was intrigued. Food stories are always excellent. He tells me that when he got home last night he wanted a little somethin’-somethin’. He settled on egg salad. Simple, quick. It wasn’t until he started it that he realized his propane was off. Landlord issues. Anyhoo. His eggs were also a few days past the sell by date. So he gets the idea to boil them IN.THE.MICROWAVE. FOR TWELVE MINUTES. By this time I am completely hysterical. He is all smug and congratulating himself on his genius when the microwave goes off. He proceeds to remove the eggs from the water and crack on on the yolk side to see if it’s done. He notices it’s a little dark and thinks maybe he didn’t cook the eggs long enough. So he starts to crack it in earnest and the egg explodes. Literally explodes. It was rotten. He has bits of rotten egg and shells everywhere. Including the ceiling. Tears are pouring down my face. I can absolutely picture every single thing he has just described to me. Hysterical.
I bet he won’t be eating egg salad anytime soon!
One more thing. I watched The Food Network last night. Big mistake. It always makes me hungry. It was a recipe contest for chicken. Yum. The winner was a whole roasted chicken with yucca fries. How good does that sound?
My next post will be about Baby Fevah. I got’s it bad.