In the song by John Prine, Illegal Smile, there’s a line that goes, “Bowl of oatmeal tried to stare me down, and won.” I get my eggs looking at me, figuring that if they can stare me down, it’s time to go back home and to bed.

This morning, the diner turned my eggs over! Without this staring contest, how will I know if I’m ready to face the day?


  1. this is eggsaspirating

    however if you listen to a different song, perhaps you can move the crisis to at least a more medically sound venue for such musings.

    “the paper holds their folded faces to the floor and every day the paper boy brings more”

    yours eggsuberantly

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