Saturday, December 8, 2007

I made sugar cookies. Frosted them. Clothed them with sprinkles and gelly icing. Fed them to my mouth. And how do they thank me? They don't. Ungrateful little flour-based snowman-shaped pieces of baked bads.

Why do we call them baked "goods" anyway? What if they taste like foot scrapings caked on top of infected ear puss? That would not be so "good", now, would it?


Megan said...

sometimes i'd like to be inside your head. just to see what it's like. i think it might be a little like being on some form of recreational drugs.

Sae said...

Somebody crossed the line again.