Dear Deviled Eggs Recipe From the Internet,
I should have known better. I’ve been burnt by the internet too many times to count. And I saw your flaws right from the beginning. But a trusting heart trusts. And this heart is trusting. So it trusted. God, that was already established, Darryl!
You wanted me to use so much more mayo than necessary, and you were far too salty. I could tell just by looking, I didn’t even have to see the comments below the recipe confirming my highly educated hypothesis gifted to me by extreme culinary foresight.
Shut up, Mother, I swear to God I misread a quarter teaspoon as a quarter cup that one time, ANYONE COULD HAVE MADE THE SAME MISTAKE I’M SOOOOOOO SORRY.
I am not your perfect boy, Mommy, I’m not! I’m just a fat gay amateur man-chef. And your little boy blue. Come blow your horn. The sheep’s in the meadow, the cow’s in the corn….
However, I do take full responsibility for thinking chili powder and a dash of cayenne would be a good replacement for smoked paprika. I think it is only fair that we retreat to our respective corners, internet recipe, and ponder our faults. We both are to share in the blame for this catastrophe. This disaster.
That’s right, this disastrophe.
But what I cannot- nay, shall not- stomach, aside from the unusually vile flavor profile, is while the fact that we are both arguably equally at fault, I alone undergo the burden of punishment.
It took hours of my time to painfully take the shells off those eggs, and they looked nothing like eggs when I was done. Nothing!
And now I have no more eggs until WalMart will allow me to purchase groceries again. And they already canceled my last order and we all know about the extensive broth debacle of August ’17! I mean, last time they deigned to allow me to order groceries, they replaced my ice cream order with another flavor!
Another flavor, Veronica!
The feud has obviously already escalated beyond human decency! But you fucked with the wrong amateur fat gay chef, mister. Because now I’ll stop at nothing until the entire internet burns in the flames of my rage. Did you hear that? Burns! FLAMES!
First, I will track down every. single. person. who left that recipe anything over a 2-star rating and I will slap them with the same ferocity, contempt, and fabulousness with which Zsa Zsa Gabor slapped that meter maid. And you know that bitch had it coming. It probably went down on Park Avenue!
Second, I will take down the website that flagrantly hosted your recipe assuredly without FDA approval. In order to do so, I will first have to infiltrate Anonymous and learn the tricks of the trade. Maybe I need to go Russian- they seem to have the edge on internet hijinks these days. Regardless, through an intricate series of foolproof hacker attacks, I will start to attain my revenge!
And only then will I hunt down whomever’s motherfucking old crone of a beloved grandmother created this atrocity of a recipe, and the last time it is prepared it will be sprinkled with a mixture of the world’s cheapest smoked paprika and the crushed bones of that deplorable harpy. And then I will watch as it is force-fed to her horrified progeny at her funeral.
And I won’t even let her take her Boniva first.
And you thought I learned nothing from getting all those participation trophies growing up, did you, Father?