The other day I smelled bacon in the office.

The scent was intoxicating, and immediately pulled me over to the kitchenette area place thingy. There I found a coworker removing their freshly heated bacon from the microwave. There were only a couple measly strips, and they were quite obviously not for me.

I was reduced to rubble. I had no bacon of my own to eat yet had to smell the aroma of somebody else’s fried pork ecstasy. I whined about this out loud, and talked about how awesome bacon was for over an hour. People laughed at my misery.

I then considered running out and getting my own bacon, and that’s where I stumbled upon a problem; where can you go to get ready to eat bacon? Damn near nowhere it turns out.

Sure, lots of places are ready to put some poorly cooked thing resembling bacon on top of your sandwich. However, if you try to drive through a McDonald’s and order “bacon”, they reply with, “Bacon what? Sure, I know, I could go to the grocery store and buy that already cooked bacon that is heat and eat, but have you ever had that stuff? It’s not all that and a bag a chips. It’s none of that and a bag of nasty.

Ever since this incident my love for bacon has become a bit of a running theme for others. “Hey, look out, David looks like he needs some bacon.” “You look tired, maybe you should eat some bacon.” “David really likes bacon.” “Hi David. Bacon.”

Happiness found me full force this morning. Several others and myself were treated to a celebratory breakfast; a buffet of happiness that featured a giant tub of bacon. Due to my previous professions of bacon love, I was closely monitored by several in attendance to see what my bacon consumption would be. For fear of putting on a show, I chose to eat only 8 or 9 strips.

They were delicious.

So with all the bacon ferver surrounding me in the past week it’s been hard to resist the urge to spew forth bits of Jim Gaffigan’s bacon routine. I offer it up here for your viewing pleasure.