Work and eggs (uh...yeah)

[rebness]

So, five minutes after my tyrannical 'boss' left, I have been offered a promotion at work. Granted, said promotion only works out to €200 more a month, but it's pretty neat. Sad that it had to take me grumbling before it was offered. Even sadder that I'm attending an interview for another job soon. Oh, well!

It's a pity I really, really like my new boss. I had all these visions of telling Evil Boss where to shove it. Now that shall never come to pass. Instead, if I do get the job, I'll apologetically explain she's great, but... but... I'll get me coat. ;_;

In rad news, I poached an egg for the first time today without failing miserably. It was courtesy of this site, where the lulzy phlegm-like eggy failures pretty much match my earlier attempts. Then comes the neat clingfilm trick and internets, let me tell you: it works. Like whoah. Anyway, I am now perfect at (cheating at) poaching eggs; today's test run shall be tomorrow's duck egg-with-asparagus-and-parmesan crisp welcome back meal for my missing flatmate. I never thought I would love clingfilm so much. Yay!

Comments

[orwellian-trash.livejournal.com]

I read the word 'edgy' as 'eggy' there, and thought 'Well, fair enough?'

[rebness.livejournal.com]

I suppose one could describe it as more eggy, as it does tend to smell more...

See, boiled eggs are so safe and very Mark-from-Peep-Show. With a poached egg, you never know if it's suddenly going to invade the other half of the pan. Er, unless it's in a clingfilm bag.

[orwellian-trash.livejournal.com]

So, to use an analogy that Mark-from-Peep-Show would make, a poached egg is like Germany in the early 20th Century, but your clingfilm bag is the Versailles Treaty that limits its military power but causes unrest and pressure within meaning eventually the cling film might pop and you'll have The Third Reich all over your kitchen?

I think I'll stick to dippy soldiers.

[rebness.livejournal.com]

That is an excellent analogy. I suppose the asapargus spears are reminiscent of apartheid and the shock of parmesan shavings shall be akin to Gavrilo Princip setting off the European tinderbox.

Erm. Coco Pops, anyone?

[orwellian-trash.livejournal.com]

Milk, no sugar.