You'd think, given my background and heritage, I'd have been invited to a get-together and told "bring bacon" before in my life. Sadly, this has not been the case, because kind hosts would provide and all would be well.
"So...you want me to cook the bacon at my house and THEN bring it to your house and THEN you'll cook it again? I don't...you can't cook it at your house? Why can't...OK, but how much are we...THAT much? Shit...ok, I'll try but..."
You know how you have favorite vices? And that one of the vices might be bad for your health? And that one of the ways people are told to quit is to, say, smoke a pack of cigarettes in an old phone booth or something?
(These are stories...I don't smoke, never got the hang of it...and I don't buy or cook bacon for the fact that it should be a treat, damned if it isn't so good. I even had a breakfast once with an Orthodox Jew who said to me, as he dined, "come on...it's bacon." And, proceeded to eat an entire side of it)
You'll just have to believe me but I'm pretty sure I have a hog's worth (hogsworth - is that a farm term?) now, ready to go. Whole house smells of it. Interested dogs are slowly walking past the house on a warm Spring day. Yeah, pups, I know. Even turkey bacon, which, let's be honest, looks like an eraser.
It's nearly the lunch hour, and I've got to head to Malibu for this event, so we'll be in the car, and the car will SMELL of it, oh yes it will. Natural bacon car air freshener. I'll open the windows and look at the fish just jumping out of the ocean.
People moving slow, whining, all the usual B.S. that surrounds me each weekend. How do I escape? Farmer John, you have any ideas?
Mmm...bacon.
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