Normally, I'm the kind of slack-wit who barely makes it up in time for second breakfast, but today I was up before 10. AM. I KNOW. I decided that I would expand my horizons by having a hard-boiled egg. This is a decision I have never made before. "What do we think about having a hard-boiled egg, Genius Corpus?" "How, about let's have a slice of bread with barbecue sauce and watch Hard Boiled while pretending the bread is something healthy and delicious?" "Sounds like a plan!"
It may come as no surprise, but I have no idea how long it takes to hard boil an egg. I boiled two eggs for about 10 or so minutes and took one out. Realizing that cracking it open if it were unfinished would be sub-optimal, I shook the egg. Between the intense heat and the sudden pain in my fingers, I am not sure if the egg innards were solid or not. I am just leaving them in the boiling water until they decide to come out.
We're approaching 20 minutes in the boiling water, and the kitchen is getting pretty humid. I prodded the eggs with my scoop and the shells cracked like...eggshells? No, that's not right because I didn't prod them particularly hard. I am going to take this as a sign they are done and pull them out. I think I'll let them cool off before attempting to devour them, though. My fingers still hurt.
The real question plaguing some of your minds is not how long an egg takes to boil at various temperatures, but what the hell was I doing waking up at a nearly civilized hour? I'll happily tell you at length and tedium, or perhaps brevitiously and possibly wittiliously. I just made those up. I crashed at my brother's apartment last night. I am over here attempting to use the interweb to locate gainful employment of the salaried variety. Waiting tables at a beer bar is fun and all, living like a collegiate refugee, but the financials of this situation are not at all fun or even interesting. This is not why I woke up so early, however. I woke up at the ass crack of tomorrow because this apartment has lovely views and great honking windows from which to appreciate said views. And the sun crept its merry fucking way over the horizon and woke up some jackass who operates a pneumatic hammer and all of his jackass buddies and they had a happy-go-goddam-lucky time in the parking lot eight stories below the aforementioned windows.
Oh, and Brother of Mine and Your Sniper Loving Pal? Im in ur kitzen eetin ur foodz.