Thing 60 Eat A Raw Egg

Ah the humble egg. Before the chicken, or after it, depending on who you believe. A little runny syrup of disgustingness, until you introduce it to heat. Then you've got scrambled magnificence, or fried awesomeness, or poached majesticness, or boiled legendariness... In an odd turn of events, there are more ways to cook it than there are to adjectives to describe it. But few people want it served raw.

Except Rocky... Oh yeah. And apparently singers who want to preserve their voices. And old school athletes. In fact, most of the amateur rugby stars of yester-year thought that raw eggs were the bomb when it came to sporting preparation. Personally, I'm glad I'm not a rugby star of yester-year. Alright that's a lie- that'd be awesome, except for the raw egg bit.

But, if there's one thing that this Project has taught me, it's that I've got a weak little god-blessus'-tummy. Honestly. I'm embarrassed. Drinking the urine made me gawk. The brown sauce in the tea made me gawk. And the raw egg... well, have a look for yourself...
So... That's an early morning fail then. I'd to go to work and pretend to my team that I'd actually done the Thing for the day already... I'm confessing now, through the inter-web, I didn't. My wee-little-tummy couldn't hack it early in the am. Round two would have to take place later in the night.

The thing about this kind of thing is that the longer than you let it fester in your head, the worse it's going to feel when the time comes to do it. Yep. Spend a whole day at work thinking about the raw egg that's waiting for you when you get home and see how that feels - If I was feeling up to it I'd make a bad marriage joke, but I'm in favour of the institute of marriage (in the non-bible-bashing-way), and lazy about bad puns. So I'll let is slide.

Home I came, like a man possessed. There literally wasn't time for a photo, I barged in on Token Northy and Pony Boy chatting in the kitchen. Popped the fridge. Cracked the egg. Downed it. Then rubbed my poor tummy.
That's when the boys decided to make me feel wee and little by slamming back some hard core protein in one go. And boy do I feel sheepish afterwards....

Pictured: Double rock hardness.

Pictured: Cooler than me.