The Power of Bacon

Thanksgiving is a time to give thanks for what you have. It's also a time for the nation to watch the Detroit Lions do, what most Detroiters/Michiganders do not, lose. This Thanksgiving was Chris and my first Thanksgiving in Seattle. Last year, Chris went home to Detroit. I was in Utah, explaining to Aussies how to play guitar hero. I wanted this Thanksgiving to be special. My sister, Meghan, who was offered a job at Microsoft, at the end of October, was flying out here for the weekend.

Ryan, a friend of Chris's from school, and internship, had offered/was ordered to host Thanksgiving. There would be six of us, all from Michigan coming together around the table. A week before dinner, Ryan sent out an email, complete with chart, on what we were to bring. I jumped on aur d'ouvers and mashed potatoes with cheese and bacon.

I thought mashed potatoes would be pretty easy. Open box, add milk and water, stir and serve. What I was not expecting was the reaction boys have when bacon is mentioned. Not having any brothers, I did not know bacon was like chocolate for guys. It was requested not only in the mashed potatoes, but also in the pigs in a blanket. The argument that was used with this request was "bacon makes everything better." Which, then prompted a proof to be sent. They are Microsoft engineers, this is what they do:

Let F be the set of all foodstuffs

Let B(X) be a function of F -> F which maps X to the Bacon-Wrapped version of X.

Let D(X) be a function of F -> (0..10) which maps X to a score from 1 to 10 of how delicious X is.

∀X ∈ F Is D(B(X)) > D(X)?

Yeah, umm, I would have been okay with leaving it at "bacon makes everything better."

On thanksgiving morning I got up, and promptly, crashed onto the futon, where my drugged sister was passed out from taking NyQuil five hours before. Note: NyQuil needs 8 hours of sleep to help you.

"Okay, I need to make pigs in a blanket, smokies, and mashed potatoes by 12:45, so we can be at Ryan's by 1!" I was energetic, I was pumped. I could do this! Chris and Meghan looked at me like I was nuts.

"Chris how do I cook bacon?"
"I dunno," was the response I got from him, a diehard Lions fan, who was setting up one of our 3 televisions for the game. Chris, and his computer along with the TV have a complex relationship. The house could blow up, my hair could catch fire, and Chris will still be zoned into one of the screens. Meghan, also has the ability to zone into the screen. I'm pretty sure the two of them could sit right through a 3 hour infomercial on knives and not move.

"Chris!"
"Chrriiiiisssss"
"Topher!"
No response other than "Augh! C'mon Lions!"
Meghan was zoned in right next to him, with laptop on lap.

I know understand why my mother, grandmother, or host, all look like they came out of a Steven King or Alfred Hitchcock movie. It's stressful! Meghan, the cook, mumbled something, from the futon. I listened, put the bacon in the pan and began to fry. I burnt my wrist the night before in a work accident, and kept jumping out of the way of the bacon trying not to end up in the burn unit at the local hospital. I must have looked like a dodge ball champ.

Finally, and I'm still not sure how, I think they were bribed with bacon, got up and wrapped the pigs in a blanket with bacon. We were out the door at 1, and at Ryan's by 1:30. I think next year I'll just order a pizza.