24 April, 2009

dance, midget boytoy, dance!

here i thought mr. monkey would arrive and, in the best interest of his increasing poundage, i would immediately go all salad and celery sticks on his ass. indeed, this did not occur. 

halfway into our third(ish) glass of wine we decided to pause in the paperwork (getting papers together for le accountant, because we are now far too cool to do our own taxes - of course the amount of work we are doing to organize the papers, we might as well do the taxes ourselves) in order to walk to save-on foods and pick up one of their spectacular slab cakes, namely the tuxedo. have you had? you should. 

as someone raised on fantastic polish made-from-scratchery, i tend to look at grocery store cakes as something akin to an industrial accident in a key of pink (all that lard, sugar and the tooth-pastey looking icing spelling out "happy berthday doris"). not this, gentle readers, not this. the tuxedo cake (and yay, verily, all of their slab cakes - except maybe the orange one which tastes a bit like frozen concentrated orange juice, which, come to think of it, is still better than the taste of an industrial accident) is pure unadulterated yum.

get thee hence, buy one and consume. 

we brought the puppy home, set it on the counter and, being all environmental and all, ate it right off the tray. classy, classy bunch, mister monkey and i.

that's all i'm telling you for now. 

so: have a drinkie-poo, get some sleep, wake up nice and early tomorrow and get out there and save the world. 


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