The following is a conversation I had with Tyler Durden from Fight Club.
Tyler: Whoa! Whoa!
Me: What? I’m just putting in some eggs.
Tyler: You wanna make an omelet, you gotta break some eggs.
Me: Well, yeah, but you have to break some eggs to make a cake too, douche. Let’s see what else is next.
Tyler: Did you know that if you mix equal parts of gasoline and frozen orange juice concentrate you can make napalm?
Me: Well orange you special? How about you help me make this cake?
Tyler: One could make all kinds of explosives, using simple household items.
Me: But… we’re not trying to make a dry-ice bomb. We’re making a cake. And I’d prefer it not explode.
Tyler: Let the chips fall where they may.
Me: Are you implying we take this list of ingredients and just throw them in, and, “Wallah!”, a cake is made? If so, I think I need a new baking partner.
Tyler: Ok, I got it.
Me: Finally! Now let’s get moving.
Tyler: Shit, I lost it.
[Tyler making maniacal laugh.]
Me: You asshole! You mean, you were just messing with me?
Tyler: You got it.
Me: Phew. I thought I’d have to throw a spatula in your face or something.
Tyler: Three minutes.
Me: You’re right! The oven is almost pre-heated. Let’s get these ingredients mixed and into a pan!
[The ingredients have been mixed and we place the cake into the oven]
Tyler: Think of everything we’ve accomplished, man.
Me: I know. I never could really follow directions very well, but I think we’ve done a good job.
Tyler: I ask you for one thing, one simple thing.
Me: What’s that? Keep in mind we’re on a clock here.
Tyler: C’mon, do me this one favor.
Me: Fine, what?
Tyler: You have to know the answer to this question!
Me: But you haven’t even asked it yet!
Tyler: Not good enough.
Me: Goodness. You’re reminding me of my ex-girlfriend.
Tyler: We’re a generation of men raised by women. I’m wondering if another woman is really the answer we need.
Me: And now you’re giving relationship advice? What the hell?
Me: Anyways, enough jibber-jabber. Let’s get this cake out of the oven.
[The cake has been sitting in the oven for way too long]
Tyler: What’s that smell?
Me: You’re right! Crap! We’ve burnt the darn thing.
Tyler: Shit man, now it’s all gone.
Me: Fuck you, Tyler. Next time, I’m getting someone else to help me bake.