Or Easter, or whatever you may be celebrating today. A good bowel movement, that is always call for celebration.
Here, in the Magneto Bold house (AKA International House of Font) we celebrate the coming of our lord and savior, The Easter Bunny, aka the-Dude-who-brings-forth-the-chocolate, aka mammal-that-can-turn-cash-into-chocolate, by eating. A. Lot. Of. Chocolate.
The Bunneh is my favourite magical creature. Even more than the sparkly vibrator dolphin. Yeah, don’t ask.
You rock dude.
I am surrounded by chocolate, everywhere I turn I am in Kelley nirvana. Especially with the shoe shaped chocolate and the eggs as big as my freaking HEAD.
But there is one evil disgusting egg that will never ever pass these perfectly glossed lips. Oh internets, this particular confectionery monstrosity most certainly was developed by someone in need of a padded room. With no shoelaces or access to People magazine.
Just the thought of it induces the gag reflex. Worse than a skanky ho in a mini and ugg boots.
Look at it. Like Turkey and gravy flavoured soda (thanks for the heads up on that one Contrary)
it is wrong on so many levels.
I loves me some eggs. I loves me some chocolate. I loves me some egg shaped chocolate. But that is where it ends. Egg shaped chocolate that looks like a freaking hard boiled egg?
Makes me want to barf up my lovely handmade truffles. And my latte. And probably last nights dinner to boot. I can feel it floating at the back of my throat.
Unfortunately for me, and my stomach lining, Moo adores these disgusting morsels. And MPS bought her some. And the biatch is rubbing my nose in it. Well not literally, cause I would take that biatch DOWN big time, but she is all mmmm, and ahhhhh and delicious! while she sucks the not quite hard boiled centre outta the bastards and my stomach churns.
I turn away so not to witness the horrific-ness of it (it is so a word) and spy Boo chowing down on a lump of Styrofoam.
Do you KNOW how hard it is to flush a jobbie full of Styrofoam? Those fuckers float big time.
And tomorrow Moo reckons she is going shopping. For discounted eggs. Cadbury creme eggs.
But I have a plan. An evil plan.
She is in bed. She is feeling sick. Too much chocolate that looks like a half boiled chicken period methinks. But she will wake sometime in the middle of the night, with a chocolate hangover and think that she can just play freaking SIMS all night or go on Myspace or MSN or somesuch.
Methinks she won’t be. No, my lovelies, I am an evil biatch. I have printed out this:
And plastered the wall next to her bed with it. Good morning!
and put this on loop on her computer
She will be too shit scared to mess with me again. Fucking teenagers.