Oh, right, now I remember why I’d unfollowed the Be Well Philly page — I don’t do food guilt. They allude to it frequently and…no.
Tonight I order my pizza with a side of NO FUCKS.
Also? I’m sorry, but who the balls says “pizza pie” in Phila-goddamn-delphia?
That said, I’ll totally eat that pizza. And then probably some pie.
P.S. It’s entirely possible — nay, probable — that they were just being cute and I’m a total asshole. I just have a lot of feelings about pizza.
Oh, go fuck yourself, Pinterest. I just double-checked The Bible, and yeah — ain’t nothin’ in there about sinful pancakes.
(OK, we all know my heathen ass doesn’t have a Bible around for quIck reference. But I’m pretty sure about this one. Gluttony, sure, but it’s not pancake-specific. How dare you sully the good name of pancakes? This is a pancake hate crime. That is NOT what Jesus would do.)
Also, now I want pancakes. FOR THE LORD.
Friend: “I was out to dinner with a coworker and she took over 20 minutes to pick her meal, with lots of “I’ve been so bad this week!” thrown in for good measure. I mean, sure, I worry about what people are going to think what I order, but I internalize that shit. Inner monologue, bitch.”
Me: “Exactly. I keep my neuroses to myself and let them slowly destroy me. Um, it’s called manners?”