Here, try a Cajun cookie

Hubby and I were watching a great HBO show last night.  It's called "Hung".  It's about an average guy named Ray who just happens to have an extraordinarily large penis. 

Ray needs money to fix his recently burned-down house so his kids can move back in with him.  His "How to Become a Millionaire" class teaches him he needs to capitalize on his greatest asset or talent.  Which, of course, for him, is the fact that's he's "hung". 

So he becomes a gigolo.  And his fellow classmate, Tanya, becomes his pimp.  

Tanya also bakes fortune cookies.  Actually, she calls them "lyric bread".  Really they're just baked goods with little laminated messages inside. 

ANYWAY, that was a really long way of telling you that Hubby and I both had an intense cookie craving last night.  

So I got up off my ass and put some pre-mixed cookie mix in the oven.  

Of course, the cookies were delicious.  Totally hit the spot.  I even got a thank-you kiss from Hubby.  

But then he asked me if I added some spice or something. 

No, of course not.  I added water.  Adding water is pretty much the extent of my baking ability. 

"They taste spicy" he said. 

"No way, don't be ridiculous.  That's probably just my lip gloss left on your lips."

"No, no.  There's chili power or something in them."

"You're crazy."

But this morning when I had a breakfast serving of cookies, I had to admit, I think he was right.  They tasted kinda spicy. 

"See!" said Hubby. "They taste all Cajun."

I don't know why, exactly.  They just have a hint of flavour that doesn't seem quite right.  There must have been some crumbs or something left on the cookie sheet, or some left-over seasoning in the mixing bowl. 

At first you'd think, gross.  I mean, who knows how long the remnants have been siting there just waiting to contaminate my baked goods.  But it's not really that bad.  It just gives my cookies a little southwestern flair.  A little je ne sais quoi. 

I think this idea could really take off.  Hubby and I could market them together.  Like the Buckleys family.  "It tastes weird, but it could be worse."  

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Avoid crack addicts

We went for a team lunch today at the new fancy wood stove pizza place.

The food was delicious, and the company great, but there was one oddly-placed and unexpected crack addict that I wish we could have avoided.

You can always spot a crack addict.  And by “crack addict” I mean sketchy gross person who must be on some type of drug, because why else would they be such a mess?

This was definitely a crack addict.

Don’t doubt me.

I can tell.

At first I thought she was just a little nutso - saying weird things to my colleagues and making a minor spectacle of herself.

But then I saw her face.

If you can’t spot a crack addict by the random outbursts, then you can spot her by the Herpes.

And while she was shooing away the voices in her head, I was trying to figure out why a crack addict would be spending her money in a fancy wood stove pizza place.

It's contradictory to all logic, isn't it?  I mean, doesn’t she have some drugs to buy or something?  Seems like a waste of money to me.

After that, I just spent most of my lunch trying to avoid eye contact – and trying not to contract Herpes.

Can you contract Herpes from across a room?

Probably.  Like, what if she sneezed and the Herpes landed on my pizza?  Ew. 

At least if I get Herpes from my pizza, Hubby will get it too, since I saved him a piece. 

This is why I think it’s important to avoid crack addicts – no matter how fancy and delicious the pizza.

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