check this one out:
it looks good.
but,
it's a little on the heavy side.
oooof.
i mean it.
i used a heck of a lot of crushed raspberries,
and they made the overall activation level less than amazing.
that's real.
they burnt out the hottness with their seedy undersides, or something,
because what i wanted, and what i got, are not in accord.
sure,
it's pretty,
but it kinda tastes a teeny tiny bit like pencil shavings;
faintly, just enough to tickle the memory of scents and secrets.
in fact,
nobody else might even notice,
but i'm like that, and i can't untaste what i've sampled.
it's molto dense too.
almost as if there were no rising agents, even.
(which, in point of fact, there were)
i brought it to work,
and i cut into it there.
until that point,
i had no idea what i was getting into.
now that i know, though?
i'll probably toss it out.
especially since my bucket-cake-eating companions have all migrated south,
or west, or southwest,
and the scavengers at the studio will almost always terrorize the treats
that aren't violet on the inside.
huh?
oh, yeah....
it's got that post-mauve-tinted lavender heat-altered razzleberry turnout.
so,
yes,
it's pretty,
but also,
no,
it's just not that great.
ha.
i've got a whole bunch of life experience with dealing with that combination,
decades of it, in fact;
and honestly,
i'll probably just toss the rest.
outer beauty and inner ugliness have received enough attention,
and i've got an oven that will allow for new and better delights today, tonight, and tomorrow.
word up.
never let it be said that i've learned nothing from my foibles through the years.
my shallowness is only upstaged by my intolerance,
and today is that day, duders.
*
hey!
remember making valentine's cards?
i never made them for everyone.
or,
when my ma would buy a box of premades,
back in the golden olden heydays,
i'd 'accidentally' lose the ones that were labelled for the A*-holes i didn't like.
nowadays, in the schoolyard,
either EVERYbody, or NObody, gets 'em.
which i don't understand.
i mean,
i understand,
but,
i wholeheartedly disagree.
the thing of it is,
if i don't like you right now, i don't have to.
i may like you in the future, if you turn magically dope,
in which case there could be a conversation heart headed your way someday.
but,
i don't have to like you, and i won't pretend to,
and that's actually okay.
also,
rules is rules,
by which i mean good is good, and bad is everything else.
that means if you suck, you don't get a heart-shaped lacey card, man.
pretending to think thoughts other than the truth makes you a big bad liarmouth,
to yourself, first and foremost, and to everybody else, too.
gross.
truth tellers can come over, even if they're ugly-truth tellers,OR ugly truth-tellers.
but everybody-gets-a-valentine do-gooders?
they're never gonna get invited to my makeout cake-out parties.
that cake?
not great.
my coworkers?
NOT getting valentines.
hahahha.
oh, stop it.
hell,
i'll tell you what-
they can have that cake, instead.
-
i place a variable-rated value on things, and people, and animals.
why?
because pretending everything is on the same level of worth means nothing is elite.
and elitism was practically made for worthy warrior poetry in motion,
which of course, is what we do here in the woodsly goodness.
friends,
my rating scale and my volume controls go to eleven,
that's no joke.
which is to say that sixes are only barely better than half-bad.
and y'know what THAT means?
yuuuuuuup.
no valentines for them..
boom.
it's all really happening,
and that's the whole point;
never quiet, never soft.....
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