Think back to the first time you and your friends tried mixing all the sodas in the pop fountain. You watched each different fizz cascade into the 64 oz. Big Gulp, mesmerized as the cola-colored puddle metamorphosed into a rust-colored, guaranteed gut-buster of a beverage. You thought to yourself, "Is this a good idea?"

And if you're anything like me, you said, "What the hell," and took a sip and even as you felt your Cheetoes and chocolate milk crawling back up your throat (with just a hint of Dr. Pepper), you swore to all your friends--you swore to God--that it was the "best thing ever made, try it, you gotta try it, just try it." And in the end, after fighting back your lunch, you decided it wasn't really that bad. And you took another sip.

That's what life is like in mredison's neighborhood. Welcome.

Wednesday, November 14, 2007

Cue the Music

Mr. Perfect's entrance music ran through my head as I made a culinary triumph last night: I cooked an edible fried egg.



For those of you who've burned, maimed, and otherwise destroyed every egg that touches your skillet, here's what I did:

Take a nonstick skillet and set it over the lowest possible heat for 5 minutes. Add 1 tbsp of cold butter and swirl it around the pan. Add 2 eggs, then two more. Cover and let cook for 3 to 4 minutes. Uncover, and you've got the perfect fried egg. I nearly cried.
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