The Dominant Egg’s Christmas Blog Special! (Blog 484)

Hello, the Dominant Egg, here! I would usually say that I’ve been busy with my Christmas shopping, but sadly I haven’t heard from many of my friends and relatives in a long time now, and have few people or eggs to shop for. I asked my good friend James Ziegler why that could be and he said there are two possibilities. The first one is that fame has made me an arrogant food stuff (I don’t know what was meant by those last two words but the way he licked his lips as he said them really disturbed me) who only cares about myself and about partying. I’ve spent a long time pondering, but I disagree. I think I’m a fun egg other eggs like to be around. Few if any party quite as hard as me. For an egg, I really am wild, you name an alcoholic drink, I’ve drunk gallons of it, often in one go. I throw up and come back for more, still laughing, still partying. Well I did, I’ve turned my life around. But I’m still fun! The second theory is my fellow eggs have been eaten. Whilst I know James was joking, he has made me paranoid. I asked my human agent if people eat eggs, and she said ‘Charlie… don’t worry. No one will eat you. You’re a one of a kind people want to know more about.’ However, I get the feeling she was avoiding the question. Why she panicked and hid the cake next to her after she finished talking, I have no idea. Whatever the reason, deep down inside it made me feel ill.

Powerful Egg, Powning Egg, Ruling Egg, Commanding Egg, Supreme Egg, I am reaching out to you. For the last time, why have you been ignoring my humorous tales of parting with fellow actors such as Brad Pitt and Clint Eastwood? I mean come on, an egg laughing and chilling out with such famous people, how can you not be curious about that? Maybe if I refer to the eggs by their real names and not just their hard earned nicknames, they’ll contact me. So, Frank Baldwin, Jim Allsbury, Hank Kraffert, Bill Poppet and William Wooster, PLEASE get in touch, I’m lonely! Not only that, If I were to be honest, I’m not having the greatest holiday as ok, ok, I am STILL struggling with alcohol addiction, but I take it one day at a time and I AM starting to feel better. :) Why the leader of the AA meetings tells everyone ‘remember, bring no quiches’ I don’t know, it’s just another thing that chills me to the bone. I really am dealing with some serious anxiety and I can’t put my finger on why. I asked the leader his thoughts on the matter, and he shed a tear in silence only adding to the mystery and pain. And don’t get me started on what happened when I visited the custard making factory as a fun trip out. I was told to leave by the saddest workers I’ve seen in my life.

You know who is happy to see me, though? The local omelette factory. What’s an omelette, you ask? I don’t know either. It sounds French, to me. What do I associate with France? Love and sophistication. Yeah! I like being associated with France or at very least being accepted by the country! That’s made my day! And of course ‘om’ is a word mystical Buddhists use often. I’m a mystical egg loved by my fellow eggs. Well apparently I’m not loved by my egg friends, and whilst I have been described as ‘highly unlikely’ I’m not sure that makes me mystical. But maybe it does! :O No, it’s been explained to me such an attitude puts others off me. I must learn to be a humble egg. But come on, I’m an egg that has it all. As many fast cars as you can imagine and a mansion filled with butlers. Sure that has left me with a profound sense of emptiness, but maybe that will go away when I win the heart of the sexiest egg in the world, that being the Beautiful Egg, AKA Wendy Roland. Wendy, please contact me if you’re interested. I have added a picture of my face to this blog. So yeah, if you like what you see, give me a call.

Now what to say? Oh yes, I’m at home right now so I can Google if omelette is a French word… Ok, done. It seems to be, I’m still not 100% sure. Now let’s find out what omelettes are. A dish made from eggs? BY eggs, you mean? No, other pages are still saying ‘from eggs’. No. No, that can’t be true. I’m going to phone the omelette factory, I’m getting to the bottom of this… Hello? Is this the omelette factory? It is?… Hello, I’ve got a question, are omelettes made from eggs?… How DARE you call me an idiot!… No this isn’t a prank call… Who am I? I’m the Dominant Egg, but as we’re not friends, you call me Mr. Baldwin!... What do you mean ‘ohhhhhh….’ You need to explain something? Yes, please do!… By ‘made from eggs’ you actually mean ‘made BY eggs’ but everyone who makes omelettes is dyslexic and can’t speak English properly? That’s weirdest and most random thing I’ve ever heard!… And why did a staff member from your factory keep trying to invite me in and have a look around?… He’s an idiot, never mind him?… You want to send me a gift to clear the air?… And what is that, may I ask?… A festive hat? I don’t have to put up with this madness anymore, I’m going. But send me the hat. Good day.’