The remnants of the girls’ birthday cake are calling my name from the fridge. I’m home alone and I don’t know how much longer I can hold out. That sweet, pillowy frosting. Oh no. The orgasmic chocolate cream filling in the middle. Oh my! The soft cake melting in my mouth like butta. Hellllllo, lover! It’s rather unfortunate for my thighs that the
little hooligans girls are more interested in their new loot than the leftover cake. It’s pure gluttony. I can’t help myself, I can’t stop, aaaaack! ChompSlurpGulpSmack! And no amount of Jazzercise is going to cancel out the amount of cake I just consumed. Seriously, what is it with me & food? Why can’t I be one of those girls who “forgets” to eat? Alas, it is just not meant to be. My love affair with food (and dessert in particular) is long and laced with sugar.
There were a few kids who started out shy, but by the end everyone had warmed up and our basement became party central.