I was starving. That was my first mistake.

My second mistake was reaching for my phone when I should have been reaching for the Cheerios. I wanted to eat my avocados before I forget about them, like I have the last two or so dozen that I’ve purchased. I even went so far as to lay one on the counter last night to speed ripening and remember that’s what I needed to consume. Johnny had gone camping, so I needn’t worry about him saying how gross they were (mind you, he chows down on guacamole).

I logged onto to that curse of so many women, Pinterest.

And of course I see these “Avocado Nests” that look delectable and easily prepared. If those teenyboppers over at Buzzfeed can do it, so can I.

Perhaps I should have let my avocados ripen a bit more, but no matter. I freed the nut and dutifully scraped a larger hole out. I pondered the possibility of only a pair filling me up.

Best make two.

Then I cracked the first egg and encountered my first big problem. Evidently everyone else uses ginormous avocados with micro eggs. Because my egg went everywhere. I frantically scooped it up and tried to make an extra large egg fit into an average avocado.

Repeat times four.

I’m not at my brightest at seven in the morning. Luckily, I only busted one yolk.

Then the toppings. Salt and pepper for everybody, a little cheese on you, some tomatoes for you (quit sliding off!!!), a sprinkle of bacon bits with mozzarella here. Off to the front porch to pick a sprig of my basil. At least they looked pretty. Popped in the oven at 400° (I just had to Google how to make that symbol….what did we do before Google?) and impatiently waited for 15 minutes. I got my breakfast entertainment ready: Designing Women, the one where the group is wooed by the ultra rich couple and end up having to emergency evacuate from the “Gun Room” where the couple fires insults at each other and bullets at the taxidermy.

At last, my avocado nests were ready. I eagerly took the pan from the oven and surveyed the mess. Of course, where the eggs had run everywhere, they had cooked to the pan. Which was kind of alright, because I was able to scrape it off….for the most part. (Ten hours later, there I was with an SOS pad and a foul temper). I transferred the four “nests” to my plate and headed back to my nest on the couch.

And stared at the mess. It quickly occurred to me the helpful preparation video had not shared how to go about eating the blasted things. The fork was not going to do it. I needed a spoon. After retrieving the spoon, I found that I still needed an instructional video for consumption. I had to take hold of each one with my left hand while scooping with my right.

Egg yolk EVERYWHERE. What a mess. Thank God I didn’t have an audience. The horror! What if I were served these at a Bed & Breakfast? That’s it, I’m never staying at a B&B. It took five minutes to wash the sticky yolk off my fingers. This would never happen to Julia Sugarbaker.

So, in conclusion, I have yet to learn my lesson about cooking from Pinterest and expecting the same effortless results. I should have just stuck to biscuits and bacon.