In honor of Valentine’s Day I was going to make these heart-shaped red velvet whoopie pies from Annie’s Eats that I found on Pinterest:
But then I remembered that baking = mess, and mess = less time I can spend, oh I don’t know, doing billions of things that are more fun than scrubbing the kitchen, including listening to “I’m Every Woman” on repeat (Oh, Whitney) and trying to pause Netflix to make the person on screen freeze in unflattering, hilarious poses. Yes, this is something I do on the regular, and yes, I’m entertaining a theory that the image of Jersey Shore’s The Situation frozen mid-fist pump has the power to trigger spontaneous ovary combustion in a defense mechanism of the human body necessary to avoid passing along the gene responsible for the decision to wear Ed Hardy clothing.
I am a PIONEER of human biology.
Valentine’s Day cracks me up, though. I love how some people are so violently against it, like they believe they are convincing people that they get all whiny about it because they don’t care. They don’t care SO HARD that they devote their Facebook statuses to how much they DON’T CARE about Valentine’s Day, because it’s STUPID and LAME. Even old fist-pumping ‘Sitch is more subtly pathetic than these people, and we are talking about somebody who looks like this on purpose:
To sum up:
1. If you say the words “Single Awareness Day” I can’t be your friend
2. The Situation is gross
3. Somebody bring those whoopie pies to my work tomorrow.