I'll warn you right off the bat--there's really no point to this post. I have just been thinking about bacon a lot lately, due to some pretty hilarious bacon-oriented events and discoveries in the last few months.Anyone who knows me as more than a casual acquaintance knows that one of my primary functions as a living being is to CONSUME BACON, and I'm really good at it. Yes, I realize it's probably not the best habit in the world. Add cigarettes and coffee to the equation, subtract exercise, and I'm basically enjoying the ride on the high-speed train to Death City. However, unlike smoking, I have successfully (and sadly) curbed my bacon consumption to a mere shadow of what it once was.
During my last two years of college, it was well known to roommates and close friends that I would spend the majority of every Saturday and Sunday morning frying me up anywhere from a half-pound to a pound of delicious bacon and a big pot of coffee, and spend two or three hours eating bacon, watching cartoons on TV, drinking coffee, and smoking cigarettes. Man... what a way to enjoy a day off. It was the perfect combination of childhood and adulthood: Complete disregard for my adult-ish responsibilities, my health, and any motivation to be productive, coupled with the adults-only pleasantries of coffee, smokes, and the ability to cook something hot and greasy without ending up in a Shriner's Hospital packed in ice.
Later, as my employment with University Food Services progressed from a simple lunchlady position up the dining-hall food chain to Student Supervisor, I realized that although I rarely used the employment benefit of free dining hall meals, it was an ideal way to score tons of free bacon. I stopped buying it at the grocery store, and made the mile-or-so walk from Euclid Avenue to Sadler Dining Center on the weekends, and took full advantage of the facility's all-you-can-eat policy, walking to the cafeteria table with a nice big plate piled high with greasy, delicious bacon. Mmmm....
Nowadays, bacon does not take quite as high of a priority for me, although I still love it as much as ever. I find that the stomach cramps I get from eating a pound of bacon in one sitting tend to outweigh the sensory pleasures of bacon's oily, crunchy deliciousness.
Imagine that you had a magic carpet. There's no denying that however often you use it, it's pretty damn awesome. But let's say riding on the magic carpet gives you motion sickness. Would you stop using it forever? No way dude, because it's a fucking magic carpet. So, in keeping with that analogy, however lame, I will sadly report that my bacon-eating has been reduced to an occasional luxury rather than a dietary staple.
When I saw an ingenious skit about bacon on my once-favorite show, The State, I felt like I may have been the only person on this Earth to completely relate to the feelings of a man (Ben Garant, probably better known for his role on "Reno 911!", and as director of the new flick "Balls of Fury") who adores bacon enough to make a dress out of it and tell it (bacon) his troubles when he feels mopey. I was also insanely jealous for not having been the first one to write a song singing the praises of bacon.
Take a look, and tell me this isn't some hardcore bacon-love:
In other bacon-related news:
Bacon-themed gifts from friends and family have become something of a tradition in my life. My good friends Lura and Dan bought me some Gummi Bacon for Christmas last year. I kind of doubt I'll ever eat it, it just seems a little too weird. But it is proudly displayed on my kitchen wall as a sort of trophy attesting to my love of fried strips of pig fat. My sister and her boyfriend have followed suit, giving me the magical gift of a Bacon Wallet for my birthday last month. I carry it proudly, and although it is a mere vinyl synthesis of what an actual bacon-crafted wallet would look like, it somehow manages to coat my credit cards and money with some sort of sticky film, almost as if it were emulating the effects of the real thing. I even received Christmas gifts thoughtfully wrapped with presumably expensive and hard-to-find bacon wrapping paper last year. You'd be surprised how many bacon-themed gifts, gags, and novelties there are out there. I, on the other hand, would not. I know I'm not the only baconophile out there.
As for the real catalyst which prompted me to blog an utterly insane tribute to my favorite foodstuff-- it all happened during a drive up to New Hampshire for a cigarette run two nights ago. After attempting a shortcut back to Massachusetts and getting lost, I eventually found my way back to Route 101 in Bedford. By this time, my bladder was screaming in agony due to the 2 huge cups of coffee that had accompanied me on my travels. I pulled into a gas station and asked if I could use their restroom.
While washing my hands and then cursing God after finding only a hot-air dryer to dry them with, I noticed what may well be the funniest thing I have ever seen. It looked something like this:
Sigh... if only there was a way to make this a reality instead of a cruel joke. While bacon may be less than useful when drying one's hands, the benefits of some sort of bacon-dispensing machine in every public restroom would transform America into my own personal paradise.
In any case, a quick Google search the next day revealed that this was hardly an isolated incident. In fact, the whole "Push Button -- Receive Bacon" gag had, unbeknownst to me, become something of an internet and pop culture meme, as evidenced by my search results.
Once again, I was kicking myself for not being the person who thought of this. So whoever you are out there, you have won my admiration and respect for being a comic genius on the topic of the most delicious of fried pork products. Thank you from the bottom of my cholesterol-polluted heart.
2. You won't believe what I saw last night (adding to the enormous pile of reasons that I detest television). A GMC Truck commercial, nothing extraordinary in its own right. Now, I think it's safe to assume that most of us have seen, and been at least moderately disappointed by, commercials (especially for cars) that feel the need to adopt classic rock anthems from years past in order to "relate" to the prime car-buying generation. We've heard The Who, Bob Seger, and countless others selling the rights to their songs, apparently along with their very souls, to The Man for a few bucks. It never fails to fill me with sadness and disappointment.