Apparently the wife and I have been very good over the past many months because we haven't been figuratively banishing ourselves to hell. Or at least not in memorable ways. Because I forgot them all.
But today. Today I am going to hell for talking all day to my coworker about whoopie pies. The kind that Bratty makes. Ok, I've only had Bratty's whoopie pies AND I didn't actually specify to my coworker what kind, but in my mental taste memory, I am totally imagining Bratty's whoopie pies.
Mostly, this is because I read a blog entry about mararons today and in my mind, they taste the same. Or the innards do. I would like to make mararons so that I can see what all the fuss is about. Not tonight though, I am busy.
Why does this make me evil? Why am I going to hell? Because my coworker gave up sweets for Lent and I had to admit, out loud this time, or, you know, via IM, that it's moments like those that I am glad I am a heathen.
That means I don't have to sacrifice anything or make promises to God and Jesus and therefore they won't be disappointed in me if I eat a whoopie pie.
or a whole damn box of Girl Scout Cookies.
Thankfully, I reminded her, if she does slip up, she will be forgiven.
My jeans are not as forgiving as God and Jesus. When my ass gets too big for my britches, they refuse to cover it and everyone sees my crack. I am NOT okay with that.