Wine, will you be my valentine?

Roses are red,
violets are blue,
wine costs less
than dinner for two.

Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day, a day that proves florists are in cahoots with God and where people in functioning successful relationships flaunt their wellbeing before the rest of the world and generally mock the lonely and broken-hearted.
Generally, being alone is a little like having a bruise on your chest — it doesn’t hurt all the time, only when pressure is applied. Valentine’s Day feels like taking a sledgehammer to that bruise thus single people use Valentines Day to become manic-depressive and buy cats.

If history is anything to go by, irrespective of my relationship status I am more likely to spend the day shouting profanities than paying compliments and am more likely to give someone the finger than a kiss.
This year, however, I am changing all that.
After careful consideration, I’ve come to the realiziation that blindly throwing blanket hatred over the whole day is pessimistic and unhealthy and thus this year I am going to embrace St. Valentine and his chocolate shaped heart.

My newfound appreciation for all that is lovey and dovey has led me to investigate the origins of this most holy day. In summary, my research has found that Valentine’s Day was created in the 1700’s by St. Cupid, the patron saint of babies with wings and complaining about commercialisation; and along with Mothers Day and Fathers day, it is one of the most important festivals of the religious calendar.

Having a sound knowledge of the days history and significance leads me to my next obstacle: actually finding a Valentine. Gossip magazines inform me that Mr. Gosling already has plans, my puppy prefers to immediately eat the flowers I give him rather than be a participant in a dramatised ceremony of presenting them to me and my best other Valentine prospect is inconveniently on the other side of the Pacific Ocean.

But fret not, for I have come up with the perfect solution. You see, I have this friend who has loved me for years but whom I only pay attention to when the circumstances are right. They’ve been there through my laughs, my frowns, my ups and downs. I think we all know who this person is:


Valentines CardSure, it may not have been love at first swig, but over the years we’ve built up a very loving and reliable relationship. I don’t discriminate against it; I don’t judge based on color or the size of its… bottle. And in return, wine doesn’t discriminate against me. It’s taken me for better or worse (progressively worse as a night wares on) richer or for poorer (mostly poorer), in sickness and in health, and I know it will stay with me as long as we both shall live. And that’s why wine is my Valentine, but I’ll make sure to treat it properly every day of the year, not just when it suits me.

What I’m trying to say is that people need to take a page out of my metaphorical book (written by Hemingway? He was a drunk, right?) and rise above their defensive instinct to just hate the day or believe they’re above acknowledging it. A day can’t authenticate or validate a romantic relationship so it can’t shed shame on singledom, either. If you put aside the irrelvant history of how the day came about and the extensive and unnecessary commercialism associated with it, what is the actual harm of just having a day that acknowledges and reminds us of all the different kinds of love we have in our lives? That’s all it is (or should be), a day to simply recognize love in all it’s forms.

If you’re lucky enough to have someone, use Valentines day as a reminder to celebrate your relationship. Then do that everyday for the next 364 days. If you find yourself single, replace the self loathing and sadness you feel in in your heart with warm positive thoughts and appreciation for the love you do have. Start an affair with wine, open a bottle of red and embrace the day. It’s better than spending the day being cynical, mocking others and wasting an otherwise perfectly good Friday. Not to mention it makes for a fun way to pass the time until Mr. Gosling finishes with his plans and runs into the sunset with you.

What it’s like to be a twenty-something as told by Mean Girls, Bridesmaids and Girls.

Golly gosh, I love the inter-webs.
I found this little gem on them and just had to share it.
Kudos, BuzzFeed.

If you’re a twenty-something you probably feel like this:


College was all like:

But now you’re all like: 


Most of the time you just want to yell at the universe.

Because no one understands you. 

With boys, it’s like:

But with your girlfriends is more like: 

And every time you say to a boy:

He’s just like: 

At which point you’re like: 


And in the end, you don’t even want a boyfriend because:

So I guess what I’m saying is that being in your twenties is hard.
Most of the time is feels like this: 


Because the problem is: 

But at the end of the day, you’re only twenty-somthing so you should be doing this:

To see the whole story, you can head to the BuzzFeed article here.

Hi, I’m a girl and I can actually pay for things.

So you know that time when Prince Charming woke Snow White out of her enchanted sleep with a kiss? Well not a lot of people know this but straight after, he asked her out on a date. That night he picked her up around 7:00, they took a short horse and carriage ride to this really hip french restaurant in the woods where they ate snails and talked about rainbows and butterflies. At the end of the night the waiter (a squirrel) gave the bill to Prince Charming who paid for it with his far far away land money. Prince Charming then drove Snow White back home, walked her to her door, kissed her goodnight and reminded her that they were to be wed next week.

A lot has happened since that night.

For starters, Prince Charming and Snow White broke up, feminism – the radical notion that women are in fact human beings became a thing, women gained educations, they got the right to vote and work (almost for equal pay-we’re still working on that one), they became liberated and independent and realised that Prince Charming didn’t exist and whats more, they didn’t need him to.

No one can argue that we’ve come a long way in the last 100 years, but Prince Charming and his outdated, old fashioned ideals still haunt us. That becomes evident every time a man and a women go on a date and the man has to pay for it. It is a facet of dating that I have never understood.

5050Women have fought to be considered equal. We wanted (and still strive for) equal opportunities and equal rights. So why is it that when it comes to courtship and dating we’re so quick to revert back to tradition rather than progression? Why is it just accepted ‘common knowledge’ that a man pays for a date?

The cultural tradition of having the man pay for a date stems back to a time where women didn’t have an opportunity or right to an income and thus had no choice. It’s also a time where women were only really ever housewives and lived in their husbands shadows. I struggle to understand how today women want to rid themselves of this image, be independent and equal yet still feel ‘entitled’ and expect to be paid for?

I know southern belle’s and wannabe Snow White’s out there are losing their minds with this notion, but just because you can make a baby doesn’t entitle you to a free meal. Rather than looking for a suga-daddy; it’s easier and more rewarding to just become your own sugar-mama. We live in a time that allows us to get an education, to earn an income, to own our own things and to make it without the aid of a man. We should be celebrating our independence rather than reverting to and accepting traditional gender roles.

I’m not saying go on a crazy feminist rant next time you go on a date. That may freak the boy out and ensure you don’t go on a second date (I may know this from experience). But don’t go with the attitude that the man has to pay either. And definitely understand that ‘chivalry’ doesn’t mean the man pays for everything. There is no easier way to exercise equality than splitting the bill. It’s also an easy way to send a message about what age you live in and how you expect to be treated.

You’re equal. Be thankful for it, embrace it and act like it.


My first date opener…

Boyfriend applications now open:

Disclaimer: This post is entirely a joke. Unless you’re someone that fits the criteria. Then it’s not and you should contact me immediately. 

I have been single for a few months now, and whilst it’s been fun going out and meeting new and different people I’m finding it hard to meet guys I am attracted to. I think part of my problem is that the kind of guy I’m waiting on is wandering round a record store somewhere in Paris in 1951. Or is named Ryan Gosling.
So to make the search easier, I’ve decided to start accepting boyfriend applications and deem the below criteria vital for anyone who wants to run the gauntlet that is me.

You must be:

At a solid 5’6 I am of average height for a women. What’s more, I am in a constant state of denial when it comes to my height so will frequently claim that I am taller than I actually am. When wearing heels I am 5’9. I refuse to be taller than you in my favorite shoes, as that is socially humiliating and I am incredibly shallow. Thus anyone applying must be at least 6’0 or above.

Intensely smart
I tend to be most attracted to engineers, chemists and physicists. Whilst their general dorkiness makes them devoted, reliable and attentive boyfriends – there is also something outrageously attractive about a man who is brilliant in the areas in which I am legally retarded.
I consider myself fairly handy in areas that make no money, such as literature, language, debate and history. However I tend to hold immense disdain for men who share these areas of expertise as I find their ideas flimsy, their argumentative style predictable and their vocabulary paltry. That being said, extensive knowledge of proper grammar is a prerequisite for any future boyfriends.
Additionally, men with practical skills such as builders or navigators may apply as I lack functional skills and men that can read maps impress me.

This should go without saying. Being funny is as important as being nice. How men who lack the charm and finesse necessary to make a women laugh still remain in our gene pool is beyond me. But I will certainly not be reproducing with them. My eggs are hilarious, your sperm must be the same.

I like a man who is self-assured to the point of obnoxiousness. Enough said.

Maintaining your hair
I’m attracted to men’s hair. Calm down, there are weirder fetishes out there. Now I don’t have a preferred haircut; I just want you to know what style you’re going for and actually be able to pull it off.  If you do not care about your appearance and go years without seeing a hairdresser (not because you are growing your hair but because you can’t be bothered) you need not apply.

Open to wearing cable knit
Look, some people are into S&M and some are into role playing. I’m into cable knit. Now I’m not suggesting that I’m into just anyone who wears a cable knit cardigan, but I certainly believe that all men are at least slightly improved when wearing cable knit. Especially when worn with a white oxford shirt, tight (but not too tight) jeans and nice shoes.
However, I have a tendency to wear a lot of cable knit myself so we must coordinate our outfits over the phone each night to avoid ever committing social suicide by walking round wearing matching cable knit jumpers. 

You know how the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach? Well the way to my heart is through manners. I’m a stickler for graciousness, politeness and respect.
Be polite and in return I promise to never give you food poisoning with my cooking.

Desirous of children
No, I’m not one of those crazy women who is looking for a sperm bank with legs. I like being 22, having no responsibilities, making terrible decisions and getting drunk at 1 in the afternoon when I feel like it. But eventually I’d like to have children and I’d like the person I end up having children with to want them too.

Able to grow facial hair
Beards, when grown properly are incredibly appealing. Even the knowledge that a man can grow a beard is attractive. It just proves you’re a man and not a boy waiting for puberty to kick in.

Willing to be henpecked
I am never satisfied with anything. I have an almost never-ending list of personal flaws and past mistakes, yet I sit atop a golden throne of judgement, from which I point my jewel-encrusted scepter at you and tell you to iron your shirt. I will pick fights with you constantly because I mistake disagreements and fundamental differences for passion. I consider a night in which we throw dinner plates at each others heads time well spent. I will find your most insecure points and needle at them until they are raw, bleeding stumps and you are weighing out the pros and cons of murdering me and making it look like an accident. I will be infuriating. I will be insufferable. I will be incredibly frustrating – but I won’t be boring.

A thrilling conversationalist
As you may be able to tell, I’m not short on either words or opinions. I like to debate until people’s ears bleed, and fall immediately in love with anyone who can do the same while holding my attention. You’re required to be able to form your own opinions, defend them and then should they differ to mine, ultimately change your views to agree with me.

Well, there you have it. A brief list of the humble requirements for the future love of my life. It’s not much, trust me. I’m easy going and open to change (no I’m not).
Applications will be accepted for the next few weeks after which the interview process will commence…


Looking like Ry may ensure an application’s sucess


So I may have a crush on Daniel Craig (I’m so sorry Ry!)

Those of you who frequently read my posts may have noticed that I have a mild crush on Ryan Gosling. And by ‘mild crush’ I actually mean a colossal crush that leaves me frazzled, occasionally unable to function in the real world and often losing whole afternoons in a delusional state planning our wedding and writing him love letters. I even posted a love letter as a blog entry, which you probably didn’t read…and despite the link I just provided, you probably still won’t read. But it’s a blog rule that I have to at least provide you with the link, both to prove how tech-savvy I am and to pretend like you actually care.
Hey, I didn’t make the rules, I just follow them.
Anyway now I’ve forgotten what this post was actually about…ahhh this is what happens when I think about the future father of my children.

Right, this post is to admit that last night I may have cheated on Ry (we’re on a nickname basis.) Now normally cheating is not something I would ever condone, but Ry and I have been rocky for the past few months. His relationship with Eva Mendes has been bothering me, not to mention my preoccupation with Scandinavian men whilst away has gotten in the way of me obsessively thinking about him. Like I said, things have been rocky. So last night, whilst watching Skyfall, I may have accidently fallen in love with Daniel Craig.

Now I know what you’re thinking; I’m only 22 and he is 44 so literally double my age and probably far too old for me. But age is just a number and next year onwards he will cease being double mine so really it’s fine.

Before I go on and say anything about Daniel Craig, I think you should take a moment and look into his eyes.

They actually defy science.
They’re the color of pure ice cold water dripping of a glacier. When his gives off a cold stare, you feel warmth looking at him. His stare just gives off a torrent of passion and emotion.
And then you look at his whole face and its perfect. It’s symmetrical, strong, beautiful and masculine. Friendly, but dangerous.

But enough about his perfect face, lets talk about his perfect body. You can tell he is in perfect shape because he can film those long chase sequences in James Bond films and not even look winded or too red in the face after them. It’s also obvious he has a perfect body every time he wears a tailored suit. Or when he walks out of the ocean in tiny swim trunks. He actually is the sexist person to ever emerge from a body of water wearing next to nothing.

Yeah, that happened.

But most of all I think my attraction to the sex God Daniel Craig comes from his portrayal of Bond. He’s not a boy that’s cute and adorable but doesn’t know anything. He’s not a guy whose cool, carries a guitar and has commitment issues – again just playing by the blog rules.
He is a fully grown man who can grown a proper beard and has thrown a few punches in his life . Daniel Craig may be the reason I’m going to go to the movies to see Skyfall again. He may also be the reason why men who wear suits, swill hard liqueur and live dangerously turn me on.
And as for Ry, he’s floating between the guy and man stage. But hopefully after this temporary break and me watching the last 3 James Bond movies a few times over, we can reconcile our differences and be back together soon.

Why boys who play guitar are actually Greek Gods:

Whatever you do, don’t fall in love with a boy who plays guitar. It’s solid advice that has been passed down from generation to generation. The premise behind it is simple, boys who play guitar have never had to work for a girl. Ever. All they do is play and girls throw themselves at them. It’s like magic. But it’s black magic and will leave you disappointed, heartbroken and drunkenly analyzing your life at 10am on a weekday.

Given I don’t heed good advice very often, I always fall for guys who play guitar. Now don’t get me wrong, the ability to play a stringed instrument isn’t the only requirement I have for a life partner. I usually don’t even know if a guy plays the guitar until it’s too late. But there seems to be an aura around guitar players that my body (and that of 99.99% of other females) respond to. And that response is usually ill-fated love. Now why is that?

Psychology tells us that most attraction has it’s roots in the unconscious desire to pick a good strong mate. Nerds and geeks are hot because they wear old fashioned jumpers we subconsciously want our kids to be smart. Athletes are hot because their bodies are pretty we subconsciously want our kids to be strong. Therefore, it makes evolutionary sense for women to find guitar playing men attractive because we subconsciously want our kids to be moody.

Wait. What?

I’ve done my research (this is a very pressing topic after all) and truthfully there is no real biological reason for loving guys that play guitar. However, there is a long standing cultural tradition that dates all the way to the Ancient Greeks that explains it.
It always has something to do with the Greeks. 

Meet Orpheus.
Orpheus played the ancient version of guitar called the lyre. He was a legendary musician, poet and prophet who had the ability to charm all living things. So basically he was a lot like Ryan Gosling with a guitar. Orpheus was so good at playing his lyre that birds, flowers and rocks followed him round everywhere he went. I don’t really understand why rocks would follow him as I’m fairly confident they don’t have ears but I digress. Orpheus married a women named Eurydice. Unfortunately though, Eurydice died on their wedding day. There are many different accounts on how she died (the Ancient Greeks weren’t that great with the whole accurate record keeping thing) but it’s not really important. Orpheus became overcome with grief, he played sad mournful songs that made the Gods weep and subsequently invented emo music. Even the rocks that followed him round became depressed.

Orpheus then decided to fully embrace goth, and travelled to the underworld to convince Hades to give him Eurydice back. At first, Hades said no, but then Orpheus played a song which made Persephone (Hades’ wife) cry. Maybe she too had a weakness for guys who play guitar. Or maybe Orpheus sang about the time Hades kidnapped Persephone and forced her to be his bride and the song just brought back bad memories. Either way, Persephone was overcome and Hades felt awkward so he told Orpheus he could have his wife back but with one condition (there’s always a catch).  Orpheus could lead his wife back to earth if he never turned round to make sure she was following.

Because I can’t resist putting a photo of Ryan Gosling in a post. And he has a guitar.

Unfortunately now, our story takes a turn for the worse as Orpheus had trust issues. Before reaching Earth, he turned around and subsequently Eurydice died (again). That’s the general gist of the story anyway. Other Ancient Greek writers (namely Plato) paint an even harsher view of the situation. Plato (rightly) suggests that if Orpheus really loved Eurydice, he would have chosen to die to be with her. So basically, Orpheus was a non-committal coward who wanted to cheat death and get his love back the easy way.

And so the tradition of the ‘guy with the guitar’ being irresistibly charming and yet unable to commit and generally being a wanker began.
Thousands of years have past, but little has changed.

Prince Charming, wherefore art thou Prince Charming?

Once upon a time in a far away land a baby boy was born in a shining castle. His parents, the King and Queen took a risk and named him Prince Charming. As the baby boy grew up, his parents breathed a sign of relief as the boy lived up to his name and grew into a intelligent, brave, handsome and witty young man. He also had amazing teeth and a good fashion sense. It’s incredibly lucky he turned out the way he did, as it would have been very awkward to have an ugly, mentally unstable and socially retarded son named Prince Charming.

After Charming finished high school he got a bachelors degree in ‘rescuing damsels in distress’ and a masters degree in ‘dragon slaying’. Rumor has is, he even started his PhD in ‘understanding women’ but the rumor can neither be confirmed or denied. Prince Charming however, will be most remembered for his many high profile relationships. He started dating his first girlfriend Snow White after he kissed her and she woke out of her enchanted sleep. Talk about being at the right place at the right time! Given all the magazines and TV shows were obsessed with publicizing ever detail of their relationship, women of all ages soon began to fall in love with Price Charming and started singing “someday my prince will come…” in his honor.

After Snow, Prince Charming moved onto Cinderella. We don’t know why he left Snow for Cindy but one can assume it’s because he developed an infatuation with blondes. Remarkably, despite 13 years passing between him dating the two princesses he had not aged at all. Many women began to regret not asking Charming which face cream he used. After his relationship with Cindy became public knowledge, Prince Charming became a household name and the source of many women’s fantasies. Female peasants mobbed him every time he left the castle, and he got more princess ass than he even knew what to do with.

Nine years later, Charming left Cindy to be with Sleeping Beauty Aurora (yet another blonde). But this relationship was complicated and Aurora had baggage to say the least. Prince Charming had to rescue Aurora from the highest tower of the castle. Luckily, he completed his masters degree so was qualified to slay the dragon that stood in his way. Once again Charming kissed Aurora, she awoke from her slumber (these princesses really like to sleep) and they started dating.

But unfortunately, this is where the story starts to get a little blurry. Woman began to realize they didn’t need Prince Charming and he was therefore made redundant. They started burning their bras and singing along to Aretha Franklin demanding RESPECT. Prince Charming’s status died and he became a D-grade celebrity. His legacy (somewhat) lived on with Prince Eric and Prince Naveen but they served to be just secondary characters in the princesses lives. Ariel was badass, made her own rules and saved herself. Besides, she was a redhead so it’s doubtful Charming would have even been interested. Prince Naveen on the other hand turned his princess into a frog. Counterproductive and rude if you ask me. But Tiana figured it out and saved both their arses. It’s clear the standards required to be a prince have slipped over time, and now the princesses are the ones saving the day (hallelujah!)

But despite the women’s liberation, and progress being made, Prince Charming’s lineage has been explored and today women have found his descendants. Two of his more famous cousins (twice removed) include Edward Cullen and Christian Grey. It is believed they’re from his fathers side.

Both of these descendants seem more sulky than sparkly (unless of course Edward goes into the sun – then he’s sparkly, but not in the good way). Nonetheless women around the world have fallen in love with them both. However, somewhere along the genetic line, some bad DNA got mixed in (the family tree is very complicated) and the cousins turned out quite different to Prince Charming. Unlike Charming, they’re overly protective, controlling, dangerous and downright weird. Edward is prudish, old fashioned and about as cuddly as a rock. But he’s got the saving the damsel in distress thing down pact. It’s possible he got the same university degree as Charming. And so long as you ignore his temper, his stalker tendencies and maddening urge to drink your blood he’s quite chivalrous and dependable.

What I assume Christian Grey looks like. He’s managed to elude the paparazzi so far.

Christian (who was much harder to track down, due to his adoption papers being sealed by the courts) is anything but prudish, but is still hideously old fashioned when it comes to anything outside the bedroom. And we can’t really comment on his cuddling ability, given we doubt he even knows how to cuddle. Whilst Christian has inherited his good looks, his fortune and his charm from his genetic links to Prince Charming, he’s not without his faults. Firstly, he is a stalker. As in ‘I should get a restraining order against you’ stalker. He also doesn’t like being touched. If you touch his chest he’ll have you aggressively pinned down before you can even say ‘control freak’. He’s incredibly overbearing; to the point that he controls what you wear, drive and do with your time. And he has major food issues. Think a Jewish mother and Italian grandmother rolled into one. Ow and you have to sign a contract to be in a relationship with him. Yup, these are just some of his ‘fifty shades’. And yet countless women fantasize about being his princess.

The cousins appeal to women because of their looks, strength and large bankrolls (no, that’s not a euphemism for large appendages, they’re just both ridiculously rich). But I still don’t get it. Why do even the most intelligent, independent and liberated women go weak at the knees for these control freaks? Shouldn’t we be celebrating that we can now make our own decisions and not fall for the idea of someone that controls everything we do?
Prince Charming (in the old fairy tales) gave us someone to dream about. Someone that will slay dragons, climb castle walls and stop at nothing to fulfill true-loves kiss. The more recent fairy tales had more realistic, independent and inspirational princesses. But we still dreamt about the fun loving princes who we’re their partners in crime, treated them well and celebrated true love. Yet, today women worldwide fantasize about violent, strange control freaks. Is it just me or does this not make sense? Call me old fashioned, but I’ll take Prince Naveen over Mr. Grey anytime.

As for Prince Charming, the last reports suggest he was rejected by a girl called Fiona. Evidently she chose an ogre over him. Maybe this story doesn’t end with a happily ever after, after all?

Love Letters: Dear Sugar

Dear Sugar,

I don’t know how to say this, so I’m going to just come out and say it. We’re breaking up. Or at least changing our facebook relationship to ‘it’s complicated’.
It’s not me, it’s you.

Sugar you’ve been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. You make icecream taste like heaven. And cookies extra delicious. You make coffee taste more tolerable. And the thought of breakfast cereals worth getting up for. Every time I put cake in my mouth, you’re the first thing I taste. In all your mouthwatering scrumptious glory. Let’s not even talk about doughnuts.

Sugar, you’re just everywhere I look. It’s almost like you’re stalking me. You’re in all my favorite foods. And most foods that aren’t my favourite, but I tolerate. It’s impressive. You know how Ryan Gosling is God’s gift to women? We’re you’re God’s gift to food. Even when something doesn’t taste sweet, BAM! You’re in it. You’re a ninja. The master of disguise. Pizza isn’t sweet. But you still hang out there. You’re in the tomato sauce.  Some of the toppings. And in the cheese. THE CHEESE. Sugar, you selfish bastard. You have no business being in the cheese!

But I get it. You’re an overachiever. Maybe your friends weren’t nice to you in high-school so you’ve decided to overachieve and show them up. Or maybe you had daddy issues. But it’s clear you just want to be a part of everything. You attention seeker, you! Sugar, you make yourself so addictive that everyone just keeps coming back for more. You’re an evil genius. You could take Victor Von Doom on and win.
You’re evil because of what you do to me. You make it impossible for me to eat one piece of cake. I have to eat three. Then when they’ve settled. Eat another three. You make is impossible for me not to think about chocolate. You coerce and harass me till I eat you. The rush is wonderful. A feeling of fun and energy runs to my extremities. But then, just as quickly, the abuse starts. You make me sad. Fat. And tired. Yet, I don’t stop thinking about you. Only you can make me feel better. So I keep coming back.

These are the thoughts of a woman in a destructive relationship. These are the thoughts of a woman who wants to quit you, but can’t. This is why we have to break up. At least for a little while. I’ll be back. I always come back. But just for a little while, I need to know that I dominate you and not the other way round.

This means you stay the hell out of my food, unless you’re in fruit. Fruit comes with fiber and nutrients. Fruit isn’t empty. Fruit has a soul (unlike you). Sugar, you’re not allowed to show up at work. You can’t send me flowers. Don’t crash my dinner parties. And don’t try to play games and get inside my head. It’s just not nice.

It’s not going to be an easy road though. You’ve infiltrated my two favorite things. Chocolate and wine. I’m going to find chocolate without you. Surely it’s gotta exist. And we all know wine is just you. And some grapes. But I’ll find a way. Ohhh you’re in mayonnaise, too, aren’t you? You sneaky, sneaky jerk.

Now don’t think you can fool me into eating you. I know how to read. I know all your nicknames. Brown rice syrup, glucose, dextrose, malt syrup, and your evil minion high fructose corn syrup. And your fake friends? They’re out too. They make me feel just as bad. For the next 10 days, I denounce your power over me. After that, we can talk about our relationship status again. Because at the end of the day,  I do love you, sugar.

I love you like a fat kid loves cake.


Your greatest fan.