Let's try and get 1,000,000 replies to this post

It's really easy, the only thing that matters is timing. Which is why some bright folks invented the egg-timer. But I am not in possession of such an item. Like any respectable Maiden fan, I use running times of songs and albums as my unit of time measurement. For example, if everything runs smoothly, it takes precisely one playing of Seventh Son of a Seventh Son to get from my place to my parent's, doorstep to doorstep. Of course you could say it takes three quarters to an hour, but that is so ordinary. Now, since Sea of Madness isn't the right amount of time, I'll be willing to assume that a hard boiled egg takes more of a When the Wild Wind Blows.
 
Perun said:
It's really easy, the only thing that matters is timing. Which is why some bright folks invented the egg-timer. But I am not in possession of such an item. Like any respectable Maiden fan, I use running times of songs and albums as my unit of time measurement. For example, if everything runs smoothly, it takes precisely one playing of Seventh Son of a Seventh Son to get from my place to my parent's, doorstep to doorstep. Of course you could say it takes three quarters to an hour, but that is so ordinary. Now, since Sea of Madness isn't the right amount of time, I'll be willing to assume that a hard boiled egg takes more of a When the Wild Wind Blows.
Click to expand...

This is rather similar to how I know it's time to go downstairs and get my dinner out the frier ^^, bravo good sir!
 
My daughter was still a baby then. This is a key part of the story because it can tell you all about my state of mind at the time - sleep-deprived, isolated, having an eight-month-old for my best friend. So one day, I start boiling a few eggs and out of the blue a friend of mine calls me and tells me that she's in the neighbourhood. Without wasting a second, I grab the baby, throw her in her pram and I even put on my shoes in the elevator. That's how desperate for a little adult communication I was.

We have a great time with the friend but she has to go, so I start walking towards home in the most nonchalant way, thinking about what I might cook for dinner. All of a sudden, a horrifying thought hits me. Oh my f@#$@ god, the eggs! :eek: I'd spent an hour and a half outside! I start sprinting like I'd never done before, the pram is already taking turns on two wheels and I can't tell if I'm pushing it or it's pulling me. In my mind I already see apocalyptic images of the whole building burnt to the ground and we're broke and homeless. Things turn into a nightmare, when I take the last turn before the building and see the fire fighters in front. Scared shitless and even more embarrassed I approach them and say "Mpfgh!" or something like that. One of the fire fighters tells me in his gravest tone of voice: "Ma'am, I have bad news for you". I nearly faint and he continues: "You're not having boiled eggs today." :p

It turned out that a neighbour called the fire department as soon as she sensed smoke. The flat looked horrendous - the eggs had exploded and covered the walls and the ceiling but apart from a few days of cleaning, no real damage was done.
 
Oooh wow! :lol: That's the best story I've heard in quite a while. Glad to hear there wasn't any serious damage. Now I'll be worried about what I might do when I have a baby. I'll keep this story with me so I know what NOT to do. :P
 
Ariana said:
I approach them and say "Mpfgh!" or something like that. One of the fire fighters tells me in his gravest tone of voice: "Ma'am, I have bad news for you". I nearly faint and he continues: "You're not having boiled eggs today."
Click to expand...

I seriously had to keep from laughing out loud at this part! :D
I think I can't even remotely imagine the messed-up state you must have been in at the time.
 
Perun said:
OK, I botched those eggs. At least now I know that a playing of Sea of Madness is not sufficient time for them to get hard boiled.
Click to expand...

Hard boiled eggs: If you have the eggs in a not too big caserole (say one where you could possibly fit four eggs at the bottom) and add just enough water that you cover the egg(s), start Hallowed be thy name once the water is boiling. That should be sufficient for a hard-boiled egg. If you want to make extra sure, try Paschendale instead. If the eggs are not hard-boiled after 8+ minutes in a WWI trench, they never will be.

@Ariana: What a story! :D
 
Luckily, it is just a funny story to tell.
But it has seriously affected me because when I go out I return a few times to look at the cooker and the stoves and make sure everything's off. At one point I used to take pictures of my cooker on my phone, so I could look at them in case I start having doubts. o_O
 
Dr. Eddies Wingman said:
If the eggs are not hard-boiled after 8+ minutes in a WWI trench, they never will be.
Click to expand...

I never thought of it that way.

I ended up buying hard-boiled eggs from the supermarket. They're coloured and I don't think the chickens that laid them ever knew what sunlight looks like or how hard ground under their feet feels like. I feel pretty guilty for buying them, actually, but my diet plan calls for a lunch with boiled eggs and spinach. And guess what: The cafeteria does not serve spinach today, but tomorrow! So I'm going to have to substitute it with dark lettuce. Talk about bad timing.
 
They're either left over from last Easter or already sold for this year's. With my supermarket, I'd not be surprised either way.

Seriously though, you do find them all year round here for some reason. Of course, there's much more in much bigger variety for lower prices around Easter, but there's always a stock.
 
You know you translated a text wrong when all sense you can make of it is in a context about masturbation.
 
You must log in or register to reply here.
Back
Top