The Bacon. It is Calling Me.

All right, this is getting ridiculous. I NEED to eat the Tim Hortons breakfast sandwich and I am GOING to get one today. I have no discernable schedule – how can I not get to Tim Hortons, which is a 15 minute walk if we dawdle, by 11 am 5 days running?

See, now that I’ve committed myself with people watching, it’ll happen.

As a reward, I will tell you later about how good the bacon was or was not. But of course, it will be good, because it’s bacon and the only way bacon is not good is if it is raw (although some people believe “smoked” = cooked and will eat raw, slimy bacon right out of the deli case; man, the first time I saw that I was all “uh, buddy? OK, I guess you know what you’re doing…”) or if it is bacon “bits” which are not bacon at all but little chunks of briquette, based on what was sprinkled on the “Works” I had at New York Fries on Sunday.

Dudes, “The Works” = fries, chili, cheese sauce, green onion and bacon bits. Supposed to have sour cream too but I drew the line there because sour cream grosses me out.

But I added malt vinegar and Tabasco. You know, for flavour.

(I know. I’m a foul, inconsistent creature. And no, I’m not pregnant again.)

It was immediately satisfying but I was hungry again an hour later.

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