Egg Salad

January 13, 2012

So… egg salad is gross.

I know I can’t leave it at that, even though I would like to.

To me, egg salad looks like a cup of old semen that has been left in the hot sun in a sweaty, crusty mayonnaise jar.

Seriously. I almost want to throw up just writing about, and I know I’m not really making it much easier on you, dear reader.

But, frankly, I find egg salad horrendous.

Don’t get me wrong, though. I like eggs. Over-easy is probably my favorite preparation. Scrambled is pretty good, too, if you crumble a bit of bacon or sausage in with it and throw some meltable cheese on top and a sprinkle of Tabasco and you’ve got your self a pretty good breakfast.

Honestly, I can deal with hard-boiled eggs. They are great for decorating around Easter time or for smashing on your forehead to lull a friend into a false sense of security before you trick them into smashing a messy raw egg onto their own face.

Not that I would know anything about that… ::AHEM::

But seriously, there is something about the sticky, jizzy mixture of mayo, eggs and mustard (which is the bane of my culinary existence and definitely another 500 words altogether) and its disgustingly mushy texture that just turns my stomach.

And frankly, Futurama doesn’t help much.

Yes, my nerd side can rear its ugly head even during a discussion about such a hideous concoction.

For those of you who don’t know (and shame on you for not knowing), I’m a tremendous Futurama fan. It’s about the only thing that rivals my Star Wars nerdism.

I didn’t like egg salad before I saw the episode in question, so don’t blame it solely on the cartoon, okay? But, there is an episode where Fry eats a bad egg salad sandwich (as if there is such thing as a “good” egg salad sandwich) and gets worms. Apparently, no one specified what kind of eggs were in the salad. However, instead of borrowing into his colon and slipping their way out of his anus, they heal him, strengthen him and actually make him smarter. He decides to get rid of them to return himself to normal and win Leela’s love fair and square.

Yeah, it’s not a normal show, but what show with a giant, vaguely Jewish, anthropomorphic lobster doctor is, you know?

Regardless, it cemented my hatred of egg salad by making me think about it for 30 consecutive minutes.

Which is exactly what this post is doing. I’ve been writing for probably 45 minutes now, a little longer than usual because I keep getting distracted by “Chopped” and Twitter.

But, it’s the little things that help me get through. If it takes looking at the delicious food on tv to keep me from throwing up onto my keyboard, then that’s just my duty as a writer.





This is not included in the 500 word limit.

I doubt Sam Jones actually knew beforehand exactly how much I hate egg salad.

It could have been any other salad, dammit.

Chicken. Ham. Caesar. All of those are good.

Remember that next time.


Truly ghjr


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