Here is my second attempt to create the anti-food-blog. It is being prompted only by the most delightful of baked goods-- cookies-- and the ways in which I manipulate them to my quirky personal relationships. No recipes. No "It's so easy! Just find some Indonesian eucalyptus powder and shower in rose petals first!" My way.
It should be noted that this is the first time I have ever put pictures into my blog, and they are ugly. Like the way Amanda Bynes says the word in She's The Man. Oooooooglay. That's rather the point. I didn't stage them. I didn't go out and by a new china hutch to display my food creations. I have better things to do. Like watch The Bachelor.
So here is the context for my anti-food-blog. For a combined Christmas/birthday present, my best guy friend from college bought me a souvenir from his trip to Italy-- a pair of cycling shorts in red, white, and green, with a printed picture of a certain piece of male anatomy on the front, modeled after Michaelangelo's famous sculpture "David." (See how I made that into a cultural reference instead of letting it get awkward? Oh, it's still awkward that he sent me penis pants? Don't worry, it is being added to the list of things I will bring up when I make a toast as his future wedding.)
I sent him a fantastic Christmas present, full of thought and love and chocolate chips. He is also a part of the six young men to whom I once gave Christmas boxers as a sign of my limitless affection. For his birthday present? Oh, it's on.
Can you tell what those are? Here, let me give you a closer look.
Those are butt cookies. Cookies shaped like butts. Cookies shaped like butts with an assortment of underwear choices, to be exact.
Thongs. Boy Shorts. Bikini Cut. Even some Granny Pantie style, although I made sure that they all had a little bit of cheek showing. Polka dots, hearts, ruffles, and stripes. I made them all.
And since underwear isn't worn just on the bottom half of a female, I also made these:
Boobs.
Well, boobs in bikinis/bras, but they're still boobs.
Wing Woman of the Year Award? Goes to me. We didn't even need to go to a bar. Here, my friend. Have some boobs.
Credit for the idea shall be given to the forwarded email that my mom received from a friend, and also to this blog, which is the first on the list if you google "butt cookies," for some icing ideas.
Thus ends my adorable "I love you so much, you're my best friend, I'm going to buy you nice things to show you how much I appreciate you" phase. It's done. I hate to think that this has started a present war between us, to see who can give the most ridiculous present, but that might be just what has happened. My birthday isn't for quite a while, so he's got a long time to think about it.
But he'll also be thinking about one very important fact as he ruminates on how superior my present giving skills are.
He liked the big butts, and he cannot lie.
