Once upon a time, when I had a job working with a few unpleasant people, I had the luck that a certain cupcake chain wanted to partner up with us. My supervisor told me to email a particular person and schedule a meeting with him. You see, my position was sort of like a business developer, except with none of the fun tasks of developing. Or social media. Or writing. Or web developing. Or anything I was interested in.
My boyfriend and I are trying something new here: honesty with each other.
Just like any relationship, there have been times of little (sometimes big) lies between us.
If you live in the Northeast of America, you know exactly what blizzard I’m’ referring to when I mention the 2016 Blizzard.
You know when you’re life is so deeply screwed for a period of time that you start trying to rub two pennies to make a dollar?
When I was in college, I used to date this horrid person. This isn’t the wah-wah-wah of a bitter ex, oh no, this is the musings of an emotionally abused woman.
Yeah. BOMBS DROPPED on the first line of a Valentine’s day post, huh? Well, it’s true. I was emotionally abused for almost 3 years. I got to experience myself go from this bubbly, frothy, easygoing sort of girl into this clammy, dead-eyed shell of a human. You all know how much I love to curse, along with talk about dicks and cake in the same breath. Well, that person did not exist in my early 20s.
I have this theory that… you really know you have your life in order when you mise en place.
Never do I ever do mise en place with baking. I mean, seriously, that requires some planning through the fortnight and shit. Normally I just grab a fistful of flour and throw it around until a misshapen cake appears. It’s always worked for me, okay?
Okay, so I guess these could be called “tarts” or “muffins” if “muffins” to you means “small baked roasty treat popped in your mouth for maximum happiness”. I mean if we’re gonna be throwing “words” around “here” we might as well make this all very “clear”. I make to make sure there’s no room for “misunderstanding”, “capisce”?
What the hell do you bake for an old widowed Lutheran German expat that hates chocolate and believes that cheese-based foods give her headaches? What if I told you you’re her eldest daughter’s eldest son’s ethnic-ass girlfriend and you want to impress the shit out of her, and show her you’re a normal American girl? A cake of course!! Pumpkin can be seen as a peace offering between all languages and barriers, according to The New York Times.
So I’m trying this new thing out where I’m attempting to type up as many blog posts as I can and queue them, because between my two jobs I don’t exactly have all of the time in the world to type. 98% of the time I come home, eat and fall asleep to the sweet sounds of my phone apps. This has very clearly caused my blogging to go to the wayside…
In my crazy hazy idea of trying to bake in my boyfriend’s paltry (baking-wise. that bubble-butt actually has a nice pad) apartment I grocery shopped for a few necessities and on a strange whim picked up bananas with him.
“Do I really need bananas?”
“Baby! Didn’t you say that you wanted to eat healthier?? This could be your breakfast before work!” I cheerfully quipped.
“But shooting whipped cream straight into my mouth with chocolate sauce has been working so far though!” He said in earnest, a word here meaning “yes my boyfriend actually shoots whipped cream straight into his mouth from the can and he’s 25.”