In Which I Become A Man

Hello again, Internet. I've made my return for yet another blog post. I guess this means our relationship is going well. Unfortunately for you, though, I have a lovely fiancé that garners all of my affection. Sorry, Internet, we'll have to just be friends. It's not you, it's me.

Anyway, today I decided to man up and fix myself a real grown-up meal. I moved out on my own in June, and have been sustaining myself on nuts, berries, and TV dinners. My fiancé tends to disagree with this lifestyle, and introduced me to something called "cooking".

Needless to say, I was not a fan of these so called "healthy alternatives". I generally prefer foods like "popcorn", "cookies", and "McDonald's", so obviously something outside of my regular fare would give me debilitating indigestion. However, because she is my fiancé, I gave in to her demands and decided to purchase  these mysterious objects she termed "real food".

Having purchased said alien commodities, I was hard pressed to find a way to use them. I tried throwing some into a pan and heating it, but they hissed at me angrily. I quickly apologized and put them away.

Clearly, I thought to myself, further research must be done into this mysterious art of cooking. Every evening, I would sit and listen to my roommate cooking foreign delicacies on the stove, unperturbed by the violent hissing of the ingredients. One day, I muttered under my breath to myself, I will be such a man as that.

Then came today. The day I would become a man.

I had heard rumours of this mythical food from foreign lands called an "omelette". I looked it up, found instructions on how to make it, and promptly decided to wait for my roommate to get home to supervise me lest I burn our apartment down.

When he arrived, I took my ingredients and cut them into small pieces, putting them in the frying pan. I heard their hisses of pain, but I did not relent.

I beat those eggs and put them in the pan. I watched carefully over it as a mother hen watches over its precocious chick.

Before long, I had the PERFECT OMELETTE.

I gingerly put the first bit into my mouth... and somewhere, a unicorn exploded. It was amazing. Adulthood had been achieved, and it was good. Even now, I continue to savor the last fleeting bit of taste lingering in my mouth.

In short, best day ever.

I later retired to the bathroom with debilitating indigestion.