Cookies and Toilets: A Most Interesting DiscussionWell, because Christmas is almost here, ready to smash me into little bits of quivering flesh, I probably won’t be blogging much over the next week or so. Gotta do stuff. Stuff I don’t wanna do. Like, bake many cookies. And buy more presents. And bake many cookies.
It’s an all-week affair, the cookie baking. I do the doughs, put them in the refrigerator until the next day, sometimes for two days, cut them out into sweet old pedophilic figures (a.k.a. Santa Claus, Michael Jackson, R. Kelly, etc.), bake them, then decorate them, usually that night or next morning. My lovely friend O and her daughter will be helping with the decorating, as is tradition. O, if you’re reading, bring Tequila and crack -- I ran out this past weekend.
Now wasn’t that interesting? Should I now recount how I clean my toilets? I don’t wear gloves, you know. That’s right, I don’t wear gloves. I hate the feel of rubber, the smell of it, so I use huge wads of sturdy paper towel to scrub the Dow Bathroom Cleaner off until my toilets shine like a baboon’s ass (those little bubbles really do talk!). Also, I refuse to use toilet brushes, because really, who wants a germy poop stick leaning up against their bathroom wall? Not I!
Then comes the hard part: I bleach my hands, making sure to soak my nails for, oh, an hour, then rinse, apply antibacterial soap, lather for, oh, an hour, rinse, repeat as necessary.
So y’all don’t have to worry that I’m serving E-coli cookies or anything. I’m very clean.
Wow! This entry is so goddamn fabulous, I feel like breaking into song!
The sun’ll come out
Bet yer bottom dollar that
There’ll be suuuun
Christ, someone shoot me dead before I sprout wings. Whatever that means.
See that? Insanity! I’m still sleep deprived, worse than ever. I had a bad night, which I was going to write about today, but can’t bring myself to do just yet. Perhaps tomorrow. ‘Cause there’ll be sun and shit.