“Did I have SEX?!”
“Nooo,” my neighbor began to laugh, “do you have snacks?”
“Ohhh,” I looked down at the two Cheesecake Factory boxes I had set down on my stoop so I could lock my front door. “Ha! Yes.”
Shaking her head, “Monday morning and already your brain goes right there…”
Goes there? Oh girl – would that it ever left.
Dear burger, fries, and milkshake from last night,
Tell no one what happened between us after I left the bar. Especially not my gut nor my wallet. Okay? Thanks…
Callmethisweekend!
Sugar, sugar, sugar, sugar, sugar, annnd – six cups of Rice Krispies.
Or, more specifically:
Momma Wienkers’ Scotcheroos!
1 cup sugar
1 cup Karo brand light corn syrup
1 cup peanut butter, JIF (Because it’s practically candy.)
1 cup Nestle semi-sweet real chocolate morsels
1 cup Nestle butterscotch morsels
6 cups Rice Krispies
In large saucepan, combine sugar and corn syrup; bring to just over a boil.
Remove from heat and stir in peanut butter.
Mix in Rice Krispies.
Press into a buttered 9×13 pan.
Melt chocolate and butterscotch morsels – not chips, morsels – in microwave.
Spread over mixture.
Chill in refrigerator until firm, usually about 15 minutes.
Finally, indulge wisely – or look like this:
There are three things in this world to which I can NOT say no:
ImeanMAN! A chivalrous man. So long as his personality is rock solid, I suppose that the level of muscle definition is open to compromise.
Unfortunately, it is only the first two that are easy to acquire – at multiple 24/7 establishments located on the route along which I stroll home after routinely failing to meet the ever elusive third.
Siiiiigh…
“Oneday,” I mumble to myself through a bite of chocolate frosted cruller.
It was not a culinary adventure, so much as a junk food kamikaze mission that I went on last night. A taste experience far from worthy of the abdominal definition sacrificed.
Baked goods, mannn.
“Just Say” un – uh. “No.” At least to keepin’ ‘em in the house. Because even when you plan on taking no more than a fourth at a time –
The next thing you know, a whole cookie is gone and you’ve eaten half a bag of tortilla chips, dipped in taco sauce as if it were an adequate substitute for salsa.
Oof. Proud moments, those. Proud, proud moments.
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