I went to cook some eggs for dinner (mainly because eggs and Cocoa Krispies were the only food in the house), so I went through my usual pre-egg-ingestion ritual (basically I light a few candles on the altar of my shrine to Don Knotts and do the Cabbage Patch 'til my hip gives out, then scream out the window to the neighbor’s dog “It’s not over 'til it’s ova!” and wait for the police to knock on the door)before bashing the balls out of the egg against the frying pan. Imagine my unappetizing yet somehow oh-so-sexy expression of astonishment mixed with horror mixed with Milk Duds when out of the shell slithered the normal translucent glop which contained, in the center, a fetid black mass of vomitous what-once-was-yolk. Holy fucking fuck, Batman, it was an actual rotten egg, much as I had been on many occasions in my youth due to my lack of sprinting skills and general lethargy! And not just rotten, Johnny; like ninth-circle-of-hell-on-colonoscopy-exam-day rotten. It smelled like shit. And I’m not just using a figure of speech. It literally reeked like a wino with IBS after one too many tamales from the dumpster. It was as if the yolk, realizing its fate, decided to void the contents of its bowels (take a big old hairy dump, for the less refined readers among you)while still in utero just to get back at the white devil who planned on exploiting it. Or maybe it was because it had been sitting in my fridge since the Carter administration. How do I know? Who am I, Miss Cleo? Anyway, I’m glad that whole ordeal’s over with.
To be honest, it didn’t taste all that bad, though.
wheee! i must go vomit now…
I can’t wait to pepper my everyday speech with my new favorite phrase! 
Man, this made me laugh.
Poor thing, at least it was just one egg and you didn’t foul up about 30 of them like I did at the church’s pancake breakfast. Augustin, our religious director, got awfully upset about that.
Kitty
Dude!! I’m eating over here!!!
Leave my dog alone!
Kitty, that’s because you forgot the pre-egg-ingestion ritual. Although, come to think of it, it didn’t exactly help me much. Perhaps Don Knotts was in a foul mood.
Zebra, I didn’t know we were neighbors. Could you do me a favor and stop walking around your apartment nude with the windows open? It’s distracting.
No, your accent is way more convincing.
I, too, have been traumatized by eggs before.
Fortunately, all the pregnancy tests turned out negative. :rolleyes:
No person is completely traumatized by an egg unless it’s Balut.
Notice the complete absence of a yolk.
I’ve been traumatized by eggs before too. Once I was making a couple of eggs and one of the eggs had blood and gunk inside of it. I was so grossed out by it that I threw everything, including the skillet, in the trash.
I think the word you are looking for is impressive.
I was traumatized by eggs when I was 10 or 11 years old. My sisters boyfriend stopped over one morning to pick her up for school. He looked over at me while I was happily eating eggs and toast and asked if I was currently eating its brains or its feet. I couldnt eat eggs for years after that.
My monitor’s wearing my coffee now.
:giggle, snort, chuckly, guffaw:
ROFLMAO - I do not give this acronym lightly.
That is one of the funniest freakin’ things I’ve ever read.
:wiping eyes, blowing nose:
BunnyGirl, I think I like you.
Oh yeah, I almost forgot - after the police show up, I tell them how happy I am to see them, 'cause I was cooking eggs and I didn’t have any bacon. They share a hearty laugh over this, then beat me over the head repeatedly with their billy clubs.
Yeah, yeah, so it took me two days to come up with this - I’ve been busy.