Friday, December 4


chocolate oranges.
chocolate oranges!
that's a december thing, right?
i seem to remember spheres of brown-colored citrus-flavored
foil-wrapped candy popping up around now every year.
maybe i'm remembering that wrong?
i s'pose that's not even relevant,
because memory is truth's editor.
that's an ugly and unfortunate factor in the creating of traditions,
and in the accurate really-real-life documentation of unfolding events
in the post-script postproduction of recall.
i think chocolate orange is for now.
...and so, it IS.
coconut, neighbors, is what i really want.
y'know what that means?
too much is the right amount,
and i'm gonna have to have all the flavors, all at once, in my fat F*ing face.
check the overdoing-it-as-always-type teleport:

for you eye!!!
for you eye. (to be read in a super mario accent)
shredded unsweetened w.p.c.,
and coconut oil, and silken tofu, and vanilla,
and orange extract and juice, and melted chocolate chips,
whipped together, on a cocoa coconut butter cookie crumb crust.
the other day, i ruined a whole batch of cookies.
...i did, and i told you i did.

yucky lookin'.
i didn't waste them, just because they were ugly.
you know the rules, friends-
that's right.
you've gotta stay ugly, stay dope.
i repurposed their disfiugured crumbly corpses into this expert base,
built beneath the smooooooth criminally decadent deliciousness of that pie.
word up.
then i toasted the sh!t out of some of that coconut,
and hit it up on top, with a few nonchalant nonpareils,
colored in sugary seasonal shades, and placed alongside the upermost crust
as site-specific sprankles.
and then,
i also added some orange frosting all around the rim,
because, like i done already told y'all-
too much is the right amount,
and that doesn't change because there's already a lot going on.
and finally,
just to ensure level-eleven hottness,
i zest-blasted it with the bright citrus savoir faire of a clementine.
oh. my. darlin'.
so expert.
treats are the truth,
and they taste better than memories by a wide-A* margin.
i'll take the sweetness of pie right now over the rewritten saccharine legacy of yesterday.
i rock a hard style,
but that's because my memory is loooooong,
and it doesn't accept post-dated check-ups.
it's all really happening,
and the record of it is right here.
the truth sounds like the truth,
and everything else sounds a whole lot like the back of dirk's mom's jaguar;
never quiet, never soft.....

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