Last week at the grocery store, I bought a box of chocolate fudge cake mix and some butter cream frosting.
No reason in particular - I just seem to find myself wanting/needing to make the occasional cupcake without the proper ingredients, so I figured while I was there, I should buy in preparation for the next wave of domesticity.
'Cause like my menstruation, you never know when it's going to hit.
However, turns out you can't keep a jar of butter cream frosting in the house of a recovering/oft-slipping sugar addict.
Cupcake mix got put safely in the cabinet, while the jar of frosting was opened, tested, and placed in the fridge butter shelf for the occasional sugar hit.
I would only take about two finger fulls at at time - enough to quench that sugar shake at the end of each evening - the one that usually causes me to eat three ice bars in a row, hence prohibiting me from buying them anymore (ice cream bars and chocolate chips - bought again, with the intention of putting them in brownies, but in reality putting them only in my belly straight from the bag).
My goodness - what is it with me and baking ingredients?
But like any addict, the finger-fulls were no longer cutting it after a while, and I wanted more.
Like a spoonful.
Or two. Maybe three.
I eventually got about halfway through the jar, and finally decided - throw it out. Seriously, I can't be working out for two hours a day, and then blow it all of hydrogenated oil that taste deliciously and sinfully like butter cream.
So out it went. Right in the garbage with my dignity.
But for as much as I love butter cream frosting, I don't love it more than this little piece of deliciousness:
He told my sister he had a lunch date.
With his imaginary friends, Fou Fou and Kenea.
Forget the frosting - THAT'S real sweetness.