Uh oh.
Today is Jimmy's birthday. I absent-mindedly made an appt for this afternoon, and then he was gone to work and I have to work tonight. I'll probably be leaving, optimistically, fifteen minutes after he walks in the door. Now, he's made it known all along that his birthday is not a big deal to him, but nonetheless I feel like a heel. A shmuck. A stinker. A schlemiel. A maroon. A boob. A fucking jackass.
So, I decided the least I could do was bake him something, so he can have something sweet when he gets home. His sweet tooth, after all, is legend.
I surveyed the contents of the cupboards and pantry, and promptly got carried away. The Experiment: spiced chocolate cupcakes filled with peanut butter-marshmallow creme. This is what happens when you have a box of spice cake mix, chocolate pudding, cocoa powder, chocolate frosting, a jar of peanut butter, a jar of marshmallow fluff, and no fear of death. I killed my cheapie electric hand mixer mixing phase one of the Glop. And gave my whisk an inferiority complex mixing Glop, phase two. I packed more of the Glop into my cupcake tin than it had ever imagined holding in its long and weary life. If they don't turn into mega-mutant cupcakes of DOOM in the oven, I'm sure he will enjoy them. Because I about gave myself diabetes just by licking my fingers during the concocting process. Thank goodness we have a gang of milk up in this joint.
And a fire extinguisher.
So, I decided the least I could do was bake him something, so he can have something sweet when he gets home. His sweet tooth, after all, is legend.
I surveyed the contents of the cupboards and pantry, and promptly got carried away. The Experiment: spiced chocolate cupcakes filled with peanut butter-marshmallow creme. This is what happens when you have a box of spice cake mix, chocolate pudding, cocoa powder, chocolate frosting, a jar of peanut butter, a jar of marshmallow fluff, and no fear of death. I killed my cheapie electric hand mixer mixing phase one of the Glop. And gave my whisk an inferiority complex mixing Glop, phase two. I packed more of the Glop into my cupcake tin than it had ever imagined holding in its long and weary life. If they don't turn into mega-mutant cupcakes of DOOM in the oven, I'm sure he will enjoy them. Because I about gave myself diabetes just by licking my fingers during the concocting process. Thank goodness we have a gang of milk up in this joint.
And a fire extinguisher.