Raisins piss me off. I have never liked raisins. I have given them an honest try throughout the years, but could never come around to be able to tolerate them. Chocolate chips are way better.
Raisins have a way of ruining perfectly good food. Cookies, muffins, bread (well, bread is shit, but it’s even shittier with raisins in it), cake, and even salad. No way does a raisin belong in salad. That’s heresy. Or what’s really perverted? Celery with peanut butter and raisins on top, which is called Ants on a Log. This is going to sound very immature, but I would call that Shit on a Log. First of all, peanut butter doesn’t belong on celery. Cheese spread goes on celery. Topping that off with raisins is like a slap in the mouth. It should be outlawed.
My most recent raisin encounter was just a couple weeks ago. We had gone to Monica’s parents’ place and I spied on the counter a plate of fresh bran muffins. Odd, because just the day before I had mentioned wanting a bran muffin. Anyway, Monica’s mom insisted that I take two with me so I would have one to enjoy with breakfast the following day. So exciting! What wasn’t so exciting was when she told me the muffins had raisins in them. No matter, I gleefully explained, as I have much experience with raisin extraction. Years of practice in my early days had prepared me for such operations. It is also in my favor that I eat almost everything with cutlery, so picking through a muffin would be a breeze.
The following morning arrived on schedule: too early. The bonus was I had a muffin waiting for me. I made my scrambled eggs and placed them on the plate beside my muffin, then took my place at the table. Eggs first. I always eat my eggs first. This leaves me more time to enjoy whatever the second item for breakfast happens to be: oatmeal, cereal, pancakes or waffles (Sundays), or bacon (usually Sundays), and one banana. This particular morning, as you are well aware, included a bran muffin. What I neglected to predict, however, was the massive amount of raisins packed into the muffin. I had seen a few of the little fuckers on the outer part of the muffin, but unfortunately hit the mother lode when I cut the muffin in half. This proved to be quite the surgical procedure, as the raisins were hiding everywhere. They tried to sneak in my mouth, but I detected every last one of them and put a swift stop to their onslaught. Not one got past me. You hear that, raisins? Huh? I will hunt you down.
In the end, I enjoyed the mutilated remnants of my bran muffin. It was exactly how I thought it should be – without raisins.
Below: Eggs and muffin. You can see the raisin dump in the bottom left. Notice my surgical instruments. The fork is a thing of beauty in a situation like this.