Bold Is Love.


standing in front of the stove unintentionally but sincerely embodying the infomercial subject’s “There’s Got To Be A Better Way,” while trying to make a grilled cheese sandwich with a fried egg in it.

this reminds me that, cf: IF YOU LIKE IT YOU SHOULDA PUT A EGG IN IT, putting a egg in it need not be exclusively a celebratory act. i think it can also fulfil a motivating function, like where you’ve been muddling around (say, on the internet) all morning* not really doing much of anything, and are just like “Okay, I gotta get down to business,” and so you put a egg in it, whatever it is. it’s a little hitch up your pants, boot in the ass kind of thing, like a promise you make your self. like you’re the Mayor and you’re like “I don’t want to do this, but shit I am the Mayor, and the Mayor’s gotta get shit done” (NB: i have no idea what mayors do), out of sheer respect for the office.

putting a egg in it is like throwing your cap over the wall.

anyway, after considerably brainstorming, it seems like the best avenue of attack is to butter one’s bread, place the two slices independently upon a griddle, gird them with cheese, so you get the browning going and the cheese melting. that’s step one. then crack an egg in a separate pan (or separate area of the same pan, should it be spacious enough), and fry it just enough on each side that it sets and the yolk is held in place. when the egg is ready, and the cheese beginning to melt a little, you transfer the egg to one of the slices, top it with the other (carefully) and crank up the heat, being careful as well when you flip it, because you don’t want that yolk to break until you bite into the sandwich. or at least until the sandwich is on your plate, then you can give it a good press down and get the egg disseminating (that is exactly the kind of gender-blending that the English language tries to hard to prohibit, but hey, words can’t be everywhere all the time, right?) through the cheese, still viscous and ready for consumption.

this is not going to work.

in other news, i’m considering putting a piece of colourful string around my finger to remind myself every time i’m like “what am i supposed to be doing right now?” to just put on some Hendrix. because at least then, confusion notwithstanding, i’ll be feelin’ it.

* it is conventionally at 2pm when you realize this.


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