On the joy of cookies

that look like her arse

Laura’s been making a lot of cookie dough lately

As such, Ricky and I have been eating a lot of cookies.

Laura’s cookies?

Well, They’re from the Betty Crocker cookbook.

And those?

Those are perfect cookies.

Hippies have tried to improve them with stupid ingredients.

You know those self-flagellating monsters who attempt to turn a delicious snack into health food.

And the cookie, ends up tasting worse than the sand I put in a box in my basement for my cat to piss in.

They take a perfectly good cookie and ruin it with some dietary sensitivity trend of the week.

Stevia?

Carob?

Flax?

Fuck that garbage, they might as well fill the cookies with trimmings from their hair-shirts.

If these fuckers made fortune cookies, instead of saving banal shit like Be slow to speak and quick to act they’d say shit like Check your privilege or Educate yourself.

I guess that wouldn’t be so bad.

You could treat these silly little messages from the holier than thou with the same reverence as you would a fortune cookie fortune.