Saturday, September 8, 2007

Chez Nina: now with 400% more bacon!

For all of you who kindly asked how I am doing, I present the following evidence:

paper coffee cups: 5 (6 if you count the one from Dunkin' Donuts - it's pastic)
beer cans: 4
milk shake cups: 3
gummi-bear bags: 3
burger bags: 4
wine bottles: 4
dirty wine glasses: 6
soda bottles: 4
prescription bottles: 4
pounds of laundry: 50 (it's a conservative guess)
towers of unopened mail: 3
ungraded student papers: 58
exploding garbage bags: 2
number of clean garments: 0
slices of bacon on the floor: 4

While all of this inexecusable, the bacon, I think, requires more explanation than merely: my father is dying and has refused to see me * and and I am apparently no longer capable of basic self care.

Yesterday when I decided to eat breakfast (it seemed a really solid gesture towards something about boots straps and pulling them up or whatever) I told the guy behind the glass to make me an "egg and cheese on toast" and waited for an entire 7 minutes for it.** Then the guy behind the glass looked up, his eyes widened... and he whirled like a dervish to present me with a foil wrapped sandwich that seemed a bit on the heavy side. I said nothing. I paid $2 for it. I left.

I arrived home, unwrapped the foil and discovered that he had made me a TWO egg and cheese on a toasted EVERYTHING bagel (so far, forgiveable)... with BACON on it. FOUR STRIPS.

And YES, it is a BIG DEAL.

I ordered this:


I got this:




Significantly different breakfasts, don't you think? Even if they were not, I hate bacon. I understand that hating bacon makes me a bad American, not to say a bad person, but I HATE BACON.

So I burst into tears, flipped open the sandwich, and threw the bacon across the room as hard as I could. Then, as I ate my (still bacon greasy) sandwich, I watched the shimmering swine slices as they rolled down the wall onto the floor. In a few minutes, I am going to step over them on my way out to get a cup of coffee. I do not know (yet) whether I have what is takes to risk ordering another egg and cheese. I simply might not be that brave.

After I get some coffee, I am going to make the following gesture towards boot-strappery: I am going to take the trash out. I will post again tomorrow with, I hope, better numbers.

* this is actually a gross over-simplification of what is really going on at home. I would explain it, but I'd rather bitch about pork products and get into how my step-mother has NO IDEA who she is dealing with if she thinks she can keep my father's children from seeing him before he dies because he wants it that way.... I suppose it doesn't require explaining that NO ONE is buying that load of selfish "I want my man all to myself" bullshit.

** Note to non-New Yorkers: to wait more than 1.5 minutes for your egg and cheese at a corner deli is not only unheard of, but in most neighborhoods, grounds for assault.

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