(Sometimes I feel like my whole life is about bacon. And I’m quite often correct in that feeling. That’s why you’re reading this right now. “Bacon” was my fault.)
If you’ve seen the buzz around here or read my last reblogged post, you already know about the experiment by the lovely and talented Jessie Janelle Reyna and her noun experiment. Today’s noun is “bacon”. Brought to you by the letter “B”.
I grew up with parents who ate extremely healthily(ish) so we never had bacon in the house.
(Unless it was Canadian bacon. Which bothered me. No offense, Canada. It’s just that your bacon kinda sucks.)
So now that I’m a “grownup”, I have bacon all the time. But contrary to popular belief, there can be such a thing as too much bacon, and I’m living it. My boyfriend (Alessandro) shares many commonalities with Ron Swanson: the mustache, the stubborn nonsense, and a love for bacon that rivals his love for me.
Bacon is in pretty much everything I eat because Alessandro uses bacon and bacon fat like other people use oil or salt. The other day I came into the kitchen and frying in the pan was the largest piece of bacon I’ve ever seen. About a foot long, 4 inches thick and 4 inches deep. (I should’ve taken a picture.)
My house is like this:
It’s scary. And often smells. It’s gotten to the point where I get nauseous if I smell pork cooking.
But that doesn’t matter. Because bacon is like crack so I eat it anyway.
Well, that’s all for me. Check out the crew of “Turn Noun For What?!” and read more about bacon and stuff.
(Also, here’s something fun for you all):