Webninja.org

I realized this morning I cook bacon like my Grandpa.

Burnt.

I woke up today and hit the snooze button. The crappy part is I couldn’t fall back asleep. I suppose that means I should have felt good but I slept rather poorly last night. I decided to get up and cook myself a decent breakfast. Stumbling over like Shaun of the Dead I pulled open the fridge door and pulled out some bacon and eggs. After 3 years at McDonald’s, I’m a pro at making eggs. Back in the day I could crack 4 eggs at a time. I’m going to let everyone in on a secret though. The bacon is all precooked. Maybe since then it’s changed but back in my day (circa 1998-2000).

Anyways, I started cooking the bacon and that was the start of how I learned it’s quite impossible for me. I’ve microwaved bacon and that turns out well. It could also be because I bought very cheap bacon. I know I bought cheap eggs and my eggs turned out perfect though. Then again, I dont think you can really buy crappy eggs, just smaller ones.

While eating my burnt bacon the taste reminded me of when my grandpa used to cook it. He’d buy a box which I think was 5 lbs of bacon tips. Probably the worst cuts possible, and he’d make it. The amazing part was it was always good, even the burnt pieces. So I’ve been nastolgic all day, remembering my grandpa. He passed away too early, and I can’t really even begin to tell anyone how much I loved and looked up to him. Even now I find lots of things I do I can relate to my Grandpa from my sense of humor. Thankfully I didn’t inherit his driving abilities.

I don’t believe in god but I like to believe in a higher power. I like to believe that there’s something more to life, that I’m working for something other than current happiness. Hopefully I’ll find out what that is, what I’m actually here for. I believe in purpose. I believe there is a reason that I’ve been thinking about my Grandpa all day and probably will tomorrow, the day of his birth. While I’m sad about the situation, I’m glad I feel this way. My friends and I can tell countless stories about my grandpa talking about monsters and Clint and his girlfriend. The times he would said racial things just to get a rise out of people. The times we sat down and talked one on one. He talked with me like I was his equal, not his minor. For that reason, I have almost more respect for my Grandpa than anyone I ever will in the world. I miss you Grandpa, but I know you’re in a better place, whatever that may be.