Chocolate Chip Cookies, not apple pie, are the most American cause of diabetes ever. If you don’t like them then the terrorists win. Every good, red blooded American should be able to whip up a batch. If you’re not exactly the Julia Childs of your apartment block, don’t worry. It’s easy to learn by starting with the basics. Cookies, being the caloric music to soothe a savage PMSing girlfriend, are a noble specimen on which to cut your teeth in the kitchen. Baking is simple, really. In this case, all you need is a mix (Betty Crocker has one that’s no mess, no fuss.), any additional ingredients such as an egg or butter, a mixing bowl, a cookie sheet, spatula, spoon, cooking spray, fire extinguisher, and the local emergency services on speed dial. See? It’s not that daunting.
January 30, 2014
January 29, 2014
The smell of him hung in the air like the last stitch of clothing in the dance of the 7 veils. His gothic charms working their serpentine spell on her. She could barely sit still, wanting only to crawl in his lap, entwine her fingers in those wavy dark locks, drink in the cold aloofness in his umber eyes, and commit suicide by drowning in the scent of his skin. Sandalwood, tobacco, cloves, and the essence of rich earth wound their way through her thoughts as if they were her fingers in his hair while they sat, shoulders touching, trying to concentrate on community theater.