If I were a vegetarian, I'd miss bacon the most.

I had bacon with breakfast today. It's one of my comfort foods. Cooked to near-carbonation, nice and crispy, oh so salty...ahhhh. But it's gotta be crispy. There is little that raises my ire (and turns my stomach) so much as limp, soggy, undercooked bacon.* I have never had a desire to chew on salty rubber, thank you. But! If you get it right, which is to say, cooked so long that it nearly crumbles to dust when you eat it, then--THEN, I am in salty protein heaven.

Years ago, when the dajamou was just a schmoo who was barely crawling, my dad told me about a song he saw in the newspaper. It was the Homer Simpson version of "Do Re Mi." At the time I was delirious with sleep deprivation (I had a 9 month old baby), I'd had one beer (my first in 18 months--see previous parentheses) and I was vulnerable. I laughed so hard I nearly peed.

But it lacked a certain...something. Then, it came to me!** You take the word "beer," and you substitute the word "bacon," and that's it! Pure GOLD, people.





*I've been known to complain and/or send it back at restaurants if it's limp. Me! Confrontation-Phobia Girl! Are you grasping the depth of my need, here?

**Or maybe to the dajadaddy--I don't remember. I had a 9 month old baby, and a beer.