So I can't watch movies and get drunk everyday. So sometimes I need to vent or praise other things that happens in my life, with or without the help of my beautiful significant other. She's at work right now, and I'm sipping on a beer while my meatballs cook. They smell amazing, and it got me to thinking about the big mistake I made last night.
Yesterday I didn't get much sleep, so when I went to work, I was already pretty groggy and grouchy. I didn't eat much at all, so by the time I got home to unwind with a couple of 40's, I was famished. Sarah was sleepy, and I wanted to drink both of my big ass beers, so I talked about how I could really go for the Spam that we had purchased from the grocery store. This woke her up, and we decided to cook Spam and eggs somewhere around midnight.
Like a chick who's about to be disappointed when unzipping a new lovers trousers, I hungrily unpeeled the tin away from the Spam, like the fat fuck I am. I dumped it out on to the counter, it made a type of suctioning sound, with a "plop". Eminating off the piece of dead unicorn, I could smell the eventual pain awaiting me, creeping off of this wonderous mystery meat. Sarah was scrambling the shit out of some eggs, while I took the Spam over to the couch where my roomate and his girlfriend were sitting. I shoved it in their faces and said "Smell that shit." Jill sniffed it, Hong looked like he may puke. I took it to the butcher block (my shitty cutting board), and cut us each up four slices of Spam. I read the instructions and it said "Cook until golden brown." GOLDEN BROWN!?!?!?!?! IT'S FUCKING MEAT!!!! MEAT SHOULD NOT BE GOLDEN BROWN, UNLESS THAT MEAT IS A FRENCH FRY (Freedom Fry to all of you gung ho Americans).
I cooked it until it wasn't squishy. It sure as fuck wasn't golden brown. I'd eaten this delicacy before, so it's flavor was of no surprise to me. It's basically a salt lick, in chewy meat form. I am a man who likes salt, so this is fine with me. But the eggs and Spam seemed to be missing something...Sriracha. So I doused that shit with Sriracha. I'm surprised the Sriracha isn't as high in sodiam as I had guessed. Anyway, we finished our white trash feast, and I was so full I couldn't finish my beer.
I woke up with a hot air balloon in my stomach. Since I'm not a disgusting pig, I don't fart around Sarah. So I got up and hit the bathroom. What erupted was what I'd assume the Atom Bomb sounded like when dropped on Nagasaki. The fart exploded and echoed inside the toilet bowl, which used it's acoustics to work as a ceramic speaker. What followed was an avalanche of brown steamy.........use whatever word(s) you'd like (yes, this is an interactive blog).
After that initial expulsion of waste, I took Thurston to school, came home and dozed off. Sarah's stupid goddamn phone kept ringing and getting texts, I really didn't get much sleep; but I suppose that was for the better, for my underwears sake. I got up while she was doing what girls do in the morning to get ready, and again, I made that toilet pay for the sins I had committed the previous night.
Okay, so my body was cleansed. Or was it? I went to H&R Block to get PAID!!!! While I was sitting in the lobby waiting for someone to do work for me, I thought I was going to shit myself, with semi digested spam, covered in brown drooling itself down my leg, and out of my pants. I tightened the butthole up, took a breath, and made my intestines choke on it. After this I went grocery shopping, and when I got home, I believe I got the rest of it out.
So this is what I have to say about Spam and eggs. Really fucking delicious. Especially if you like rubbery meat, that may or may not be from a mystical animal that we believe are just products of fairy tales. Eggs are obviously good. Both covered in Sriracha, may be one of the saltiest, sexiest things to eat. If you love your lover, you will convince him or her to let you slap cooked Spam all over their nude body, ejaculate Sriracha all over it, and slowly eat it and lick it off. But beware, you may have to do this on a wild n crazy friday night, so you can spend the next day on your ceramic confessional booth.
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