Filed under: general wonderment
I know several weeks ago (yikes!) I mentioned creepy bunny cupcakes. (oh dear, when looking that up, I noticed that I wrote “I’ll tell you about the creepy bunny cupcakes tomorrow”. whoops! What I really meant was “a month from now”.) So while I’m feeling guilty about posting so rarely lately, I will go ahead and tell y’all about the creepy bunny cupcakes. (I giggle every time I write that)
Around Easter this year, I was walking around our local Kroger sniffing the yummy looking (and smelling) fresh made cinnamon buns, when I spied something with my little eyes that began with the letter “C” (and also “B”…and then another “C”).
What was that? Yes! You’re right! Creepy Bunny Cupcakes!
These things made me stop in the middle of the store and just really laugh my ass off. I cannot imagine anyone thinking these things up and saying to themselves “These will be a huge hit this Easter! We must make THOUSANDS!!! They will sell out in 2 days!”. Of course, when I found them, they were on clearance. So apparently they didn’t go over as well as planned.
That did not deture me! Hey! 12 cupcakes for 2 bucks? Hell yeah we have a deal! LOL!
Rat and I ended up only eating 3 of them (total, not “a piece”).
Now comes the time where I show you why.
“Hi! I love you! Can I drink your blood? Satan is my friend!”Hee hee. Sorry. That’s what runs through my head when I see this picture. Oh…you’re still laughing? Okay. I’ll wait.
*twiddling thumbs*
You okay? Alright. Now that you’ve cleaned whatever drink you were drinking off of whatever you just spit it on, let me ask you this: What could be creepier than that bunny cupcake?
And can it possibly get any worse? Why yes! It can! Guess what kind of cake they’re made of. Red velvet cake.
Is it any wonder now how 9 cupcakes survived in our house for about 2 weeks before I finally threw them away because I just couldn’t look at their creepy little faces anymore? Actually…I didn’t throw away the creepy little faces….I took them off and washed them out and I’ve been delighting myself in putting them on different things (like the cats, although I can’t get them to sit still long enough for me to snap a few pictures).
So now you know my dirty little (creepy) secret. And I hope you thought it (at least parts of it) was funny. I know I did!
Yeah. I know. I’ve been horrible about posting lately. What can I say other than oops…sorry…my bad? So I’ll try to make it up to y’all with some more letters to gym people. Yay! Aren’t you excited?! I know I am! I mean really, me criticing people at the gym? Who wouldn’t wanna read that?!
To Weird-Guy-In-Workshirt:
Umm. A workshirt? Really? How comfortable can that be? (Seriously y’all…a button-down workshirt with a name patch) I guess there’s nothing really wrong with it, but dang if it didn’t look weird. And please do something about the obviously itchy underwear you were wearing. I know that there are other possibilities for why you couldn’t leave yourself alone, but I don’t want to think about them.
So. In the future. Try a t-shirt at the gym. You’ll find that you’re much more comfortable and get lots less strange looks from other people. And speaking of strange looks, the itchy undies situation. Please remedy that. Or at least pick an elliptical more than one away from me when the entire line of them are empty. I was on the one at the end for a reason.
Thank you for your time,
The-girl-who-is-going-to-start-putting-”This Machine Is Broken”-signs-on-the-machines-around-her
To the Very Affectionate Couple:
Omigod y’all….get a room. No one wants to see that. I seriously thought I was gonna barf. That’s the sucky thing about being on a workout machine and seeing something that makes you wanna hurl. You can run faster and faster, but you don’t actually get away from anything. Like the guy in the bright red sweatpants and the bright yellow sweatshirt (yes, I’m talking to you…You looked like a hotdog) walking over to his girlfriend/wife/hooker/whatever (yes, now I’m talking to you, a bra is not a shirt) every 5 damn minutes to suck face and pat her on the butt while the girl on the elliptical (hey, now we’re talking about me! in a respectable amount of clothes that don’t remind me of any kind of food) is trying not to be sick.
See what you made me do? I’ve never seen so many parenthases in my life!
To recap: don’t make out at the gym, especially when dressed as a hotdog and a stripper.
Barfing-ly yours,
the-girl-who-will-now-never-be-comfortable-wearing-anything-less-than-baggy-shirts-
to-the-gym-thanks-to-you
….and finally….
To The Hot Guy Who Doesn’t Go To The Gym Enough:
Dear Hot Guy,
Please come back. I’m sorry about the drool. I promise to bring a towel next time. And maybe I’ll even try not to stare as much (who am I kidding, I’ll just wear my sunglasses). And even though you walk like you’re pretty full of yourself, I won’t judge. I mean, hell, if I looked like that I’d probably be pretty full of myself too. And hey, I could be wrong! You’ve just got a little bit of that Christian Bale in American Psycho thing going on. All that aside…you’re pretty… ~drool~
Oops…there I go again.
School-girl-crushingly Yours,
barnmouse
**barnmouse disclaimer**
“NOT THAT THERE’S ANYTHING WRONG WITH THAT”
thankyouveddymuch
Filed under: I totally have real life friends too
…but to be fair, I started this before 12.
And also…photoshop is hard, dude. And maybe I might have been watching Family Guy. Just a little.
So! Today (well…yesterday…the 10th! Of May!) is my Granny’s birthday! Her 84th birthday to be exact! Yay Granny!
Granny is the best granny ever! When I was little, we used to spend hours (and all of her quarters) at Roses riding the little plastic horsies. Okay…so it was just me who rode the horsies, but she was standing there watching the whole time. And we all know how important it is for grown-ups to “watch ME!” when we’re little. Looking back on it now, I’m convinced that she enjoyed that just as much, if not more, as me! We also used to build “super card houses” on her rug in the living room. They had the best carpet for card houses. You could stand up one card! These things had 4 and 5 stories sometimes. And the best part was always knocking them over at the end of the day (although, sometimes my granddad got that honor…hee hee…I think knocking stuff over is a guy thing).
Since she’s gotten older and isn’t able to cook all the things that had become traditions, like her sour cream cinnamon coffee cake (a Christmas breakfast staple) I’ve been trying to figure out some of her cooking secrets. So since I was meeting up with my parents on Tuesday, I thought I’d try to bake the coffee cake and send some home with them so Granny could have some of the cake that she lovingly prepared all those years for her birthday. I spoke with her today and she said that she loved it! Which makes me pretty darn happy. Also, my mom said it was fantastic, which means SO much. It took me awhile, (and many “eh” kind of coffee cakes) to figure out that she used the recipe as a “guide”, but once I got over my fear of screwing it up forever (can’t quite figure out how I got that in my crazy head) I tweaked some of the ingredients and lo and behold! Granny’s coffee cake! Yay!
So Happy Birthday Granny! You’re the best! I love you!
-your favorite grandchild
(heh)
