Monday-Friday at 11:30 or 3:00 and sometimes at 11:30 and 3:00, I slip 75 cents in the vending machine and hit E8- the sweet combo of buttons that makes the Snickers fall. Then I whisper, “Hey beautiful,” while I undress it.
Because you don’t scare me, large bucket of hot wings. You make my vegetarian friends, who eat you when drunk, poop hot butt lava. Others, who may not know you so well, have picked their noses with your sauce still on their fingers. They are idiots. For some, your mere size intimidates. What will they do with the left-overs? THERE SHOULD BE NO LEFTOVERS, I say, mouth full, from atop my mountain of wings. It has been written and shall be so that he who so ordereth the wings of hotness shall eat them with swiftness and totality forever and ever until they are gone.
Not so long ago, my mother taught me how to make a delicious and healthy apple/berry crisp with a little bit of butter, brown sugar and rolled oats. What I took from the tutorial: one stick of butter, half a bag of brown sugar and a little bit of oats mixed together in a pan makes a fantastic dinner.
Sweet potato fries with Ketchup.
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