By Molly Freedenberg
Last night, I slept with bacon. Or rather, I soaked up my whiskey and beer with a big fat bacon sandwich -- slices of crisp, thick-cut pork piled between two sides of a cheese bagel -- and then drifted off to sleep immersed (thanks to the bedroom's proximity to the kitchen) in the smell of fried pig.
This has been happening a lot more often than it used to - and not just because I finally kicked that pesky eating disorder and discovered that bacon (and french fries, and pizza, and just about everything else) really does taste better than rice cakes dipped in mustard. It's also because everyone around me seems to be eating bacon. Talking about bacon. Talking about art about bacon.
It's got me wondering: When and how, exactly, did bacon become such a big friggin' deal?
Baconstache: where two ironic trends collide. Photo courtesy of skullsandbacon.blospot.com.