(no subject)
When my mind wanders during, perhaps, a train ride on my way to the drudgery that is law school and my life, or when I'm in that place in between asleep and awake and my thoughts float like cartoon bubbles over my head - my stream-of-consciousness goes to one thing: my bakery. I want to open a bakery. In my dreamland, it is the cutest lil bakery filled with delicious treats. It is like one of those bakeries/coffee shops. It will have cute little tables. A cappuccino machine. And sometimes we serve soup sometimes not. Everyone is happy in my shop. The workers are good looking and friendly (b/c I'm a great boss). My desserts are described as heavenly, too good to be true, and so delicious they bring on a euphoric sensation one gets from heroin. Of course my bakery is wildly successful after a slow two months (the story needs a lil adversity people). It is hailed as the "Best Bakery in Brooklyn… NO the WORLD!"
One quiet afternoon I am humbly sweeping up in the back. A costumer momentarily passes out b/c my carrot cake is too good to put in her mouth. She comes to. And in walks a celebrity. Not anyone too famous but someone who has achieved a modicum of success… someone Brooklyn born like Marissa Tomei or Jimmy Smits. They are floored by my baked goods. They insist on meeting the baker. We talk for hours. They hand over (without my encouragement) a framed black and white picture and sign it, "Thank you for giving my taste buds such a treat. XOXO Mar."
One celebrity begets a parade of celebrities. It goes up the ladder to the A-listers. Suddenly, the bakery is visited by such stars as SJP and hubby Matt, Susan Sarandon, Tom Hanks, Katie and Tom, Will and Jada, the ubiquitous Beckhams. Martha Stewart comes in and hands over her apron to me. Of course George Clooney, Matt Damon, Christian Bale, James Spader, John Krasinski, and Mario Lopez (I still really like saved by the bell)… all visit and they all tell me I have an accessible beauty, irresistible charm, and that they can't get enough of my cream puffs. I pick John K. b/c he's the least famous and I have a sense we can become rising stars together. Then something amazing happens… OPRAH! It's better than Jesus. (Jesus does eventually choose my bakery for his second coming but that's another story). Oprah's hand of gold- no literally ppl… her hand is coated in gold, brings a firestorm. I'm on Oprah's favorite things. I have to open stores nationwide open 24 hours a day to keep up with the orders. I have a rough two weeks when a false rumor comes out that I am putting steroids in my brownies and actual cocaine in my cookies. I weather the media backlash gracefully.
One day while making oatmeal cookies I inadvertently cure cancer, I throw in some raisins to the batch and that cures AIDS. John K and I have a baby because I get millions of letters begging me to procreate. The baby has a questionable flap of skin on its back. We realize it's a pair of wings; the baby can fly. I am Time's person of the year. I am Barbara Walters' most fascinating person… I am actually the last fascinating person. After me, there can be no one better. My bakery wins the Democratic Nomination. The Hand of God comes down and gives me a key the universe.
America becomes even more enamored with me when they discover that I also want to write for Hollywood. John K and I are asked to write a movie. I direct, star, do the costume design and Kraft Food service. It is the perfect mix of comedy and drama, so perfect that people must watch it with sunglasses on so as not to hurt their eyes. The movie wins Oscars, Emmys, Grammys, and the Noble Peace Prize. I made my dress that I wear to the Oscars and people faint b/c I look so good. The next day I am so awesome, I spontaneously combust. The world cries a giant tear. Everyone is so sad… the entire human race commits suicide. The end.
But seriously, I really want to open a bakery.
One quiet afternoon I am humbly sweeping up in the back. A costumer momentarily passes out b/c my carrot cake is too good to put in her mouth. She comes to. And in walks a celebrity. Not anyone too famous but someone who has achieved a modicum of success… someone Brooklyn born like Marissa Tomei or Jimmy Smits. They are floored by my baked goods. They insist on meeting the baker. We talk for hours. They hand over (without my encouragement) a framed black and white picture and sign it, "Thank you for giving my taste buds such a treat. XOXO Mar."
One celebrity begets a parade of celebrities. It goes up the ladder to the A-listers. Suddenly, the bakery is visited by such stars as SJP and hubby Matt, Susan Sarandon, Tom Hanks, Katie and Tom, Will and Jada, the ubiquitous Beckhams. Martha Stewart comes in and hands over her apron to me. Of course George Clooney, Matt Damon, Christian Bale, James Spader, John Krasinski, and Mario Lopez (I still really like saved by the bell)… all visit and they all tell me I have an accessible beauty, irresistible charm, and that they can't get enough of my cream puffs. I pick John K. b/c he's the least famous and I have a sense we can become rising stars together. Then something amazing happens… OPRAH! It's better than Jesus. (Jesus does eventually choose my bakery for his second coming but that's another story). Oprah's hand of gold- no literally ppl… her hand is coated in gold, brings a firestorm. I'm on Oprah's favorite things. I have to open stores nationwide open 24 hours a day to keep up with the orders. I have a rough two weeks when a false rumor comes out that I am putting steroids in my brownies and actual cocaine in my cookies. I weather the media backlash gracefully.
One day while making oatmeal cookies I inadvertently cure cancer, I throw in some raisins to the batch and that cures AIDS. John K and I have a baby because I get millions of letters begging me to procreate. The baby has a questionable flap of skin on its back. We realize it's a pair of wings; the baby can fly. I am Time's person of the year. I am Barbara Walters' most fascinating person… I am actually the last fascinating person. After me, there can be no one better. My bakery wins the Democratic Nomination. The Hand of God comes down and gives me a key the universe.
America becomes even more enamored with me when they discover that I also want to write for Hollywood. John K and I are asked to write a movie. I direct, star, do the costume design and Kraft Food service. It is the perfect mix of comedy and drama, so perfect that people must watch it with sunglasses on so as not to hurt their eyes. The movie wins Oscars, Emmys, Grammys, and the Noble Peace Prize. I made my dress that I wear to the Oscars and people faint b/c I look so good. The next day I am so awesome, I spontaneously combust. The world cries a giant tear. Everyone is so sad… the entire human race commits suicide. The end.
But seriously, I really want to open a bakery.