always be honest, except for when you lie

Wednesday, December 01, 2004

why i should not bake

Although I bake well I ought not. The reason is simple. I eat what I bake. I eat it. Not some of it. Not a little bit. A lot. There it is. I eat a lot of it. And if I were here alone I would, don't doubt it, consume every single solitary bite and crumb.


You have hit bottom when your spouse comes to you with an empty cookie jar, a jar that was full to the top at dawn, and says:

Do we have mice? The cookies are gone.

Even sadder when you answer:

Rats. Big giant rats. Make the call baby. We need someone to come collect those rats.

I am ashamed of myself. I need to join a group. The kind where people stand up and declare that they are weak and pathetic and beneath contempt because that will make everything better. Admitting it is HALF the battle.

What's the other half?

You know what else is good besides cookies? Cheesecake. I made a cheesecake last week that was Kiss The Cook good. Ate all that too. Came down in the middle of the night, bare assed and humiliated by my behavior. But I ate that cake there by the light of the fridge. Oh woe is me.

Later when I talk about how hard it is to find a good pair of jeans I want you to forget about all of this because one thing has nothing to do with the other. Jeans are stupid. Don't even try to blame the cheesecake.