I think my mother is trying to kill me. Slowly. With cookies.
To be more clear: I believe that it is my mother's intention to make me eat not only until I can no longer button my jeans, but until I explode. That's right. Explode. Why Kat? Why do you think your mother would do such a thing? Perhaps she just likes making food for her wonderful children. Perhaps the time-honored practice of making Christmas cookies is just a source of great spiritual wealth-- one that recalls her own childhood holidays, and one that carries with it the clear upshot of having something nice to send off to all the neighbors. Perhaps churning out new and delicious delectables by the hour is a fun little hobby of hers that she looks forward to during the entire year-- and that cloying us all with lemon squares, almond bars, spritzes, and russian tea cakes is no more than a way of innocently disposing with some of the fruits of her labor so that she can make room for more little products of her joyfully practiced art.
Or perhaps there are more sinister motives at work here...
Because there can't be any completely disinterested reason for stockpiling THAT MANY lemon squares. No human on earth could ever need so many. Not you. Not me. Not anyone. Not even to achieve optimum Christmas cheer. I mean, that takes about two ginger snaps and a cup of hot cocoa-- tops. I think the sheer VOLUME of sweet little bits of tastiness that we have here in this house right now testifies to my mother's darker purposes. Clearly, she is attempting to sacrifice her eldest child in order to expose the ugly underbelly of Christmas in the modern age. Because what characterizes modern christmas? According to all of those holiday specials? Well, gluttony. Gluttony and greed. And maybe gout. Yeah. The infamous three g's of christmas. Anyway, so my mom is enacting a concerted plot to bake exactly every bad, unhealthy, sugar laden, fat soaked, chocolate drenched food that could ever attract my fancy. She wants to gorge me with goodness so that, in the end, it all becomes too much. No amount of time at the gym could ever help-- ultimately, I am expected to give up to my cookie-induced demise. And then I will be the cookie martyr. Known around the world as a tragic victim of unconquerable christmas overeating. Or maybe she just likes having me around very much...too much. And the plan is to make me so impossibly heavy that I could never be moved off of the couch. Okay, you're right, the details are a little sketchy, and I don't have everything worked out just yet. But I think it's pretty easy to see that we're dealing with a mastermind here. One that can bake, and bake well. One with near infinite capabilities. Who knows what she'll do next?!
(I hope it's peppermint brownies...)
Anyway...Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to everybody! Hope you're all safely enjoying too many cookies, too. :)
To be more clear: I believe that it is my mother's intention to make me eat not only until I can no longer button my jeans, but until I explode. That's right. Explode. Why Kat? Why do you think your mother would do such a thing? Perhaps she just likes making food for her wonderful children. Perhaps the time-honored practice of making Christmas cookies is just a source of great spiritual wealth-- one that recalls her own childhood holidays, and one that carries with it the clear upshot of having something nice to send off to all the neighbors. Perhaps churning out new and delicious delectables by the hour is a fun little hobby of hers that she looks forward to during the entire year-- and that cloying us all with lemon squares, almond bars, spritzes, and russian tea cakes is no more than a way of innocently disposing with some of the fruits of her labor so that she can make room for more little products of her joyfully practiced art.
Or perhaps there are more sinister motives at work here...
Because there can't be any completely disinterested reason for stockpiling THAT MANY lemon squares. No human on earth could ever need so many. Not you. Not me. Not anyone. Not even to achieve optimum Christmas cheer. I mean, that takes about two ginger snaps and a cup of hot cocoa-- tops. I think the sheer VOLUME of sweet little bits of tastiness that we have here in this house right now testifies to my mother's darker purposes. Clearly, she is attempting to sacrifice her eldest child in order to expose the ugly underbelly of Christmas in the modern age. Because what characterizes modern christmas? According to all of those holiday specials? Well, gluttony. Gluttony and greed. And maybe gout. Yeah. The infamous three g's of christmas. Anyway, so my mom is enacting a concerted plot to bake exactly every bad, unhealthy, sugar laden, fat soaked, chocolate drenched food that could ever attract my fancy. She wants to gorge me with goodness so that, in the end, it all becomes too much. No amount of time at the gym could ever help-- ultimately, I am expected to give up to my cookie-induced demise. And then I will be the cookie martyr. Known around the world as a tragic victim of unconquerable christmas overeating. Or maybe she just likes having me around very much...too much. And the plan is to make me so impossibly heavy that I could never be moved off of the couch. Okay, you're right, the details are a little sketchy, and I don't have everything worked out just yet. But I think it's pretty easy to see that we're dealing with a mastermind here. One that can bake, and bake well. One with near infinite capabilities. Who knows what she'll do next?!
(I hope it's peppermint brownies...)
Anyway...Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to everybody! Hope you're all safely enjoying too many cookies, too. :)
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