Via Ms. Andry’s Bath House on Facebook, my new #goals for the evening
Eleanor Shellstrop is my new life coach.
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Tag Archives: candy
“He looks like a cool drink of water, but he’s candy coated misery…”
Oh, OK, that’s not weird at all. Someone I slept with 20 years ago and never heard from again just looked at my LinkedIn profile?
Sure, why not?
Pfft. Whatever. Dude’s name was Heath — I fucked him because I thought he’d be filled with toffee.
“Say ‘crack’ again.”
It’s weird, I think I’d remember smoking crack. Especially since I don’t even know HOW to smoke crack.
I guess maybe I Googled it?
Because it seems at some point I agreed to go see my family for Easter, and now that the time is upon me, crack seems to be the only rational explanation.
You know the drill, guys: Family = wine = Jesus. May your battle wounds be minor, your chosen numbing agents effective.
And may you also have candy.
Godspeed.
Star-Kris-Krossed Love
Happy Valentine’s Day, my loves. Have a splendid and safe day.
I’ll be spending mine orally fixated on a trough of manicotti, and later making sweet, sweet love to an irresponsible number of Godiva salted caramels. (Candy-based promiscuity is the best promiscuity.)
See also: watching Friends with Benefits again, because Justin Timberlake singing Kris Kross is EVERYONE’s Valentine.
Love and many kisses,
Smug 
Advantage: Breasts
Because computer dudes are that brand of sexy-hot-smart that makes my software tingle, I’m really not trying to generalize, so…#NotAllNerds.
But it’s always amazing to me what I can get accomplished in my IT department with a tight sweater and a smile. They even let me eat their candy. (Not a euphemism.)
Let the record show I’d get naked with at least one of them, so I’m not JUST using my feminine wiles to get tech support. It’s just a happy bonus.
Lessons from The Great Pumpkin
Charlie Brown really was “friends” with mostly assholes.
Linus just learned not to fuck with a woman and her candy.
Sally, meanwhile, got her first bit of tragic foreshadowing re: men disappointing her.
Don’t ask, don’t tell.
My running game is totally sexy until you learn my headphones are blaring Mandy Moore’s “Candy.”
Ssshhh…
Now I would also like candy.
“Candy is dandy, but liquor is quicker.”– Willy Wonka
Nothing tastes as good as punching you in your face feels.
I’m trying to get myself back in line with diet and exercise, and you know what fitness dogma I can’t stand? “Nothing tastes as good as being thin feels.”
It’s like… Have you HAD cake? Have you tried smoked gouda, which tastes like cheese and bacon are making sweet, sweet love right there on your tongue? Have you had Haagen Dazs Caramel Cone ice cream? Have ya had bacon that’s been baked with brown sugar — motherfucking CANDY BACON?!
I think you’ve been eating the wrong food.
Now, OK, am I eating less of that stuff trying to get excess weight off my body? Certainly, I understand I have to. But don’t tell me nothing *tastes* as good, because food is goddamn delicious. I’ve never been thin, but I’ve weighed less, and lots of stuff totally tastes better than that. And I’d rather be a li’l rotund than never eat French fries again. I just need to control the amount of them I shovel into my face, which I am not always the best at. (Curious, the girl with the sex blog can’t keep delicious things out of her mouth — ‘sup, Freud?)
P.S. Holy shit, can we just DISCUSS mozzarella sticks?! CHEESE! FRIED CHEESE! In stick form! Come ON! A stick. In my mouth. But it’s cheese.
Food is GREAT. Shut your piehole (or whatever you’re eating that doesn’t taste as good as being thin feels).
Smug Singleton 