Skip to main content

Egg-sactly!

Almost every morning I have eggs for breakfast. I love them poached or over easy with a little butter. In fact my family eats so many eggs that I buy 3 dozen at a time. This is why I found it so surprising that, when given the opportunity, the idea of eating a Farm Fresh egg made me feel like I needed to barf. And here is why: Farm Fresh eggs don't come in a Styrofoam container. No indeed. Rather, they come out of the asshole of a chicken. Did you get that? The bird SHITS out its offspring. And then we crack open its' protective layer and fry it in some butter.

Did I mention that they are warm to the touch and the shell is covered with a gooey afterbirth? Oh, yeah! And sometimes, if you get really lucky there can be feathers and hay and shit stuck to it in the goop. And then there is the yolk. It is noticeably more orange in color than its' store bought counterparts leaving you to wonder WHY.

This past summer we vacationed on a lovely farm. Horses, chickens, roosters, asparagus, lettuce, artichokes, beans, potatoes...you name it, it grew in this garden.

Every morning my daughters would run to the chicken coop to bring me the Farm Fresh eggs. They were SO excited when they found one. They would proudly run into the kitchen and hand it to me. I would always say, "OH! Look at that! Well...what a lovely egg! And it's still warm! Imagine! Ummm...are you hungry? Yeah, me either."

While I was there I snuck out to the grocery store and bought eggs. I would stockpile the Fresh ones and serve them to my family and when it was time for mine I'd cook one from the store. But I don't think it OFFICIALLY makes me a bad mom and wife...I mean, I was giving them the BEST, right? They got the freshest eggs, and I took the crummy older ones. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is what being a mom is all about. Taking the occasional hit for the team. If I have to eat plain old white, sanitized eggs so you can have the brown, goopy, shitted on ones, well then, that's what I'll do.

www.rqmitchell.blogspot.com

Comments

Anonymous said…
Oh, this is so funny - a friend who grew up on a farm and came back with some "farm fresh" eggs brought all of us a carton. Welllllll, I was SO suspicious of those bright, orange yolks, I just couldn't enjoy them. I swear they tasted "funny." (Probably the way eggs are SUPPOSED to taste!!) At any rate, I couldn't eat any more and threw them away. No kids left at home to pawn them off, I mean treat them to.

Popular posts from this blog

Pervy McPervert strikes again!

When I was a kid I used to make the occasional prank call. But then I turned 13 and decided that it was a fairly retarded way to spend ones time. I've also received a few "heavy breathing" calls in my day. My mom finally bought us a whistle and said that whenever "he" called that we were to blow the whistle as loud as we could into the phone. That worked although I do wish she had specified that before blowing the whistle I should take the receiver away from my head as my ear made this weird ringing noise for days afterward. But it got rid of the pervert. It's a new day, however, and perverts must be looking for new ways to annoy us. Twice today someone has texted a picture to me. I have no idea who he is or what the hell he wants. But he must think that I don't know that sometimes shirtless men squeeze their arms against their chest to give the appearance that they actually have biceps when, in fact, their arms really look like toothpicks that are broke

And The Winner Is...

I have some very exciting news. For the first time ever the Blog of Bex is giving out an award . Yes, I know. I can feel my heart pounding, too. I will call it the Bite My Ass Award (BMAA) and I'm sure it will be coveted. Now you might be wondering just who will be the lucky recipient. Could it be Diesel, the mastermind of Humor-Blogs and Mattress Police , who - for reasons unknown to me - revamped the scoring system and and reset my score to zero? Nope. This action has actually mysteriously seemed to work in my favor. I'm sure it's temporary. ANYWAY, on to the big news. I hereby give my BMAA to this guy: Handsome little fucker, isn't he? His name is James Jackson, IV and his friends call him Jay. I like to call him Fucktard because I believe that your name should say something about the kind of guy you are. And he's a total fucktard. What, you may wonder, did he do to generate such ire from me? Well I'm so glad you asked. He owns two boutiques in suburban At

The Dunkin Donuts Dilemna

I am always amazed when I leave my home in the early hours of the morning and there are people out and about. I can barely see the runners (as the sun isn't yet passed the horizon) but they are hoofing it up the hill. Don't these people know that they should be home - in bed - snuggled up???! So you can imagine my surprise when, at 6AM, I saw the impressive line at my local Dunkin Donuts. But we were heading out of town on a road trip with 3 little kids (all under 8) and a 2 month old puppy. I know what you are thinking...WHY??! We very anxiously wanted to travel for a little bit of more pain - AKA my 20th High School reunion. Maybe more on that later... As if this all weren't bad enough, my husband and I had been to a party the night before and I had just the slightest headache. So I needed coffee and like all reasonable people I went to the Dunkin Donuts because their coffee is THE BEST coffee anywhere! Starbucks can kiss my lilly white! But I digress... So I get in the l