So, after a long, long day, I was finally able to come home and crash at four or five in the afternoon (I work nights); this “morning” I wake up late, putz around a bit, and then go into the kitchen, eager for my breakfast. My breakfast of eggs and toast. My breakfast… that didn’t happen.

Someone ate my eggs.

I don’t want to point fingers… but I will. Later on. After I’ve interrogated the house. Usually, generally, I’m not too uptight about my food. The people I live with? Good people. They can have a bite to eat if they want it. But when I want something, and I can’t, I get a little antsy. With the eggs, it’s even worse because I buy the super-expensive, vegetarian fed, high-in-Omega-3, free range and/or organic kind–when a dozen go missing, I’m out three or four bucks, instead of just the one that you might expect.

In any case, I vented my rage by looking for apartments I could rent without roommates for about three minutes before giving up on them all, and also by the tried-and-true method of typing shit into Google and seeing what happens. In this case, when I typed in “someone ate my eggs” into google and google image search, two awesome things happened:

1. When Gunter Ate My Eggs (google)
2. and this picture (google image search)

I have yet to try google video. Perhaps after I post yesterday’s stories.