At about nine o'clock this evening, as I stood before my kitchen stove, slathering torn off layers of iceberg lettuce with mayonnaise and eating them while awaiting the melting of two slices of Mozzarella cheese atop my sausage fat-fried eggs, it occurred to me that there are probably far more suitable candidates than myself to face combat scenarios overseas. Unless I get to fly something, I would want nothing to do with fighting war beyond the strategizing of it.
Before the eggs were even ready, my mind was most thoroughly preoccupied by how satisfying a nice after dinner coffee and cigarette would be.
Deep golden brown on the underside, the two egg's yolks, unturned, were rendered just to the point of solidification - and the cheese had just finished melting evenly by the time the pot-cover I had placed over the cast iron frying pan was lifted.
“Marvellous,” I thought with each twist of the mill - and watched the cheesy surface of my perfectly fried eggs become sufficiently dense with black pepper grinds. I then ate them, without toast, and prepared my evening coffee.
Unsure if speaking in your own mind about oneself in the third person, I am alone again. A stubborn and seemingly unemployable man-child. I shaved my head today. Why you wonder? Well I had tried to cut it somewhat short myself, but it was catastrophic. For two straight days I did not leave my apartment and decided that something had to be done to circumvent my own vanity. I knew it would become a somewhat lengthy endeavour; (to shave my entire head with a Mach II safety razor) so it's a good thing I had enough shaving lotion for the job.
For two straight days I have done little else but sift through opinions regarding the financial meltdown, mainly the Alberta (real estate) Bubble Blog. And I listened to talk radio.
I stared at the screen for a good five minutes as my browser rested on the the last entry in the ongoing speculative debate:
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