I went to the grocery to buy a red onion and a container of yogurt for something I’m cooking tomorrow. While I was there, the craving for Hostess fucking cupcakes hit me like an American car whose brakes had predictably failed while in a crosswalk.
Luckily, I couldn’t find the cupcakes. I had half a mind to ask a store employee where they were. I even considered pretending that “my son” wanted them. I thought that would be the height of indignity, though, so I didn’t do it.
Instead, I bought a box of Count Chocula. I’m going to eat the whole goddamn thing.
Also, who the fuck blogs about what they’re eating? Christ, am I a douchebag.