A letter to the 'special brownie' I ate last night:
Dear Brownie, or Mr. Special as I like to call you in your finer moments,
Last night in the midst of a wonderful time of burgers and beer, ping pong and poon-tang, I ate you with high hopes and hearts amidst a gaggle of rabble in shades. Little did I know that you would hurt me so badly. Upon bringing you into my life you immediately took control of my major motor functions (Not that this hampered my ability to play the people-sized jenga) and slapped some down syndrome on my synopsis. Not only did you cause me to cancel my late night plans, but you have been plaguing me today with intestinal attacks that leave me dreaming of finer times. I will never trust you again, oh special brownie. For fear that you ravage me once more.
Dear Brownie, or Mr. Special as I like to call you in your finer moments,
Last night in the midst of a wonderful time of burgers and beer, ping pong and poon-tang, I ate you with high hopes and hearts amidst a gaggle of rabble in shades. Little did I know that you would hurt me so badly. Upon bringing you into my life you immediately took control of my major motor functions (Not that this hampered my ability to play the people-sized jenga) and slapped some down syndrome on my synopsis. Not only did you cause me to cancel my late night plans, but you have been plaguing me today with intestinal attacks that leave me dreaming of finer times. I will never trust you again, oh special brownie. For fear that you ravage me once more.
you should cook with canibutter, not the raw form, to make it effective. My friends and I try and do it for Knott's Scary Farm every year. But I am down most all the time. Want to learn?
You are in my area, that would be fun. I have a one ft-er at home as well.
I apologize for the brownie, it is not all its fault. it tried.
~the angel*