alternate title: How NOT to have your blog post featured on the BlogHer sidebar thingy…
It was one of my girlfriends birthday on the weekend. Forty. She was forty. Old biatch. She had a kick arse party that I didn’t get to attend because of Boo losing his fucking mind hyped up on stolen gluten/dairy/food colouring laced birthday cake. Oh and a house full of screaming Emos.
And I would have been fucking awesome. Cause it was a ‘dress as a movie star’ party and I was going as Marilyn Monroe. In a body bag. Complete with toe tag. Fuck it.
Anyway. I got her a gift voucher from my local dealer, and I couldn’t help sampling some of the merchandise. And buying myself a little somethin’ somethin’. Cause dammit, I deserve a good time too ya know.
I walked out of there with little coin left from a hundred dollars but floating. The Damn Emos with me were starting to feel a little high just touching some of my coveted crack.
‘Not until you are out on your own biatches. This shit is MINE! When you have your own place I will hit you up with your own stash. Get your grimy fingers off mine.’
Got in the car feeling a little peckish, downed my latte and some chocolate and took a loving glance at my stash, giving the Damn Emos a warning look that said ‘If I catch you within 10 feet of it I will cut you’ and we all made it home safely.
My hands shaking, I lovingly placed my purchase on the counter, MPS looking on disapprovingly.
‘How much of that shit you need woman?’
oooooh kitchen shit.
I mean LOOK at those measuring cups! They are teh awesome.
And a tiny syringe thingy for icing cakes! ZMOG I think I need to change my panties.
And HOT DAY-UM new spatulas to replace the one that Boo mistook for a fucking lollypop.
This is desperately needed in my kitchen. I have a confession. I cannot boil an egg to save my fucking life.
I can bake anything. I have catered a kids birthday party for 45 children. Gluten, milk, soy, salicylate, colour and artificial flavouring free and the little bastards ate every single morsel and begged for more. The parents asked for the recipes. I made LOLLYPOPS and taffy and caramels. I can cook anything from scratch, throwing shit in and it works.
But I cannot boil an egg.
Now thanks to this little baby I can.
But my ultimate? The thing that makes me squeal like a little girl and swoon?
Hello lover. We will be together one day. Kisses.
So what is your crack? I betcha you thought mine would be a shoe store. Nup. Homewares and sharp shiny kitchen knives baby, all the way.