Wednesday, June 27, 2012

Wal-Mart Is Making Me Fat

I'm not what anyone would consider to be impulsive, but when I get an idea in my head that won't let go, I have to act on it. Take for example a discussion I had last week with my wife, Penny. She was making breakfast and I started to wax poetic about the morning meals that I would have as a kid in Scotland. At the top of my list was boiled egg and soldiers, with the military men in question being sliced pieces of toast that could be dipped into a runny boiled egg. We both wanted one right there and then, but seeing as how we didn't have egg cups, we settled for a more traditional breakfast.
Fast forward to earlier this morning with poor old me, head stuck in the fridge, trying to figure out what to eat. We always have a hen's assful of eggs, so I immediately thought of boiled egg and soldiers. It was either that or resort to eating an entire can of Pillsbury Cinnamon Rolls with icing. I hop in the car and head off to Wal-Mart to pick up a couple of egg cups so that Penny can enjoy the experience when she gets back from work. Problem is I can't find any. There are kitchen utensils that I have never seen or hear of before, including a device that will prevent bacon fat from spraying your bollocks when you cook egg cups though.
I make the mistake of asking the lady in the housewares section where I might find said egg cups and received a slack-jawed stare by way of response. Seems she, or anyone else in Wal-Mart for that matter has never heard of egg cups.
I admit defeat and head back to my car where my dog greets me with the same expression as the shop clerk. It's less than a 5 minute drive to my house, but by the time I get there I have convinced myself that the cinnamon rolls will become tainted if I don't eat the. I am well aware that they are in a vacuum sealed tin that would survive a nuclear attack, and that superior being from another galaxy would never be able to open that can, but I still have an inkling that the ebola virus will find its way in.
Thirty minutes later, my arteries clogged with icing, and I am filled with shame. 8 cinnamon rolls are gone, as well as a pot of coffee, and I am appalled. I feel like the dude from "Seven" and almost wish that Kevin Spacey would come and punish me for my sins. I soon realize that it's not my fault though, and that if Wal-Mart would just take the simple steps of selling egg cups, this kind of breakfast debauchery could be avoided.


CB said...

Aye the auld scottish 'sougies' you cany wack 'em...

Anonymous said...

I won the lottery. Pity you missed it. You could have had golden eggs for breakfast if you hadn't killed the hen.

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