Off the top, I’d like to admit that I BLATANTLY stole the title for the post from Angry Pete. There, I said it, now let me explain.

A) I’ve had that lyric in my head ever since I read it on his site.
B) It really is a damn fine lyric.
C) I have it on CD somewhere around here, but having the rest of the lyrics in my head can only be a dangerous thing.
D) I really wish I had some form of pork product to go with my omelet-turned-scrambled eggs.
E) Funny thing is, I really wasn’t missing the pork until I turned my omelet into scrambled eggs. Now I need ham, bacon or sausage, and have none. (Unlike my brother, who makes sure to get his sausage EVERY morning, but that’s another, much more disturbing topic.)

Two revelations have come from my omelet experiences of late. Check that, three revelations.

The first is that I did WAY too good the first time I ever made an omelet to expect to make another one even close to as good as it again. It was folded perfectly, full of goodness, and everything that is right about an omelet. Ironically, I made that omelet while the Hurricanes were playing for the Stanley Cup 2 years ago. Their play on the ice has been about as sparkling as my work in the omelet pan ever since.

Second, I need a new omelet pan. I’ve got some that work fine, and probably are intended to be able to cook omelets, but I think I’d feel better if I had a pan that was made EXCLUSIVELY for omelets. Even if just the first one was good, I could justify the whole deal. In addition to the pan, I just need to stop trying to fit 3 eggs into a 2 egg omelet. It doesn’t work. I don’t think it ever has. All I end up with is gooey egg stuff on top, and burned egg on the bottom. I’ll never learn.