that's my word for 2015 . so today was spending quality TIME with the monkey's in my personal circus. i stopped and baked with them. fuck i hate baking, so fucking messy. but how can anyone resist those faces all toothless and shit and the other bug eyed. i can't, so one wanted to make biscuits and the other wanted to make some sugary filled cake.
i did ask them if they wanted to make the soup instead. crickets, all i got was crickets.
ok, baking it is. fawk, get the whole wheat flour!
amara keeps sneaking the biscuit batter, so much so...she can't speak. (yaa, see...this is another reason why i don't bake) STOP. EATING. THE. BATTER. AMARA. that amount will make you sick.
she nods (because her mouth is full).
the rest is pretty much smooth sailing, it was a mess but the they got mom time along with sugar and butter their two favorite thing's that MOM (otherwise known as that crazy bitch that holds back all the tasty things in my childhood because of her concern of cancer and proper nutrition) tries to NOT give us. i feel like the monkeys got their bananas and i'm being a motherfucking sorcerer (yes, this is always the winning card in "cards against humanity") for allowing them to bake this crap and we all fell connected. win/win.
now TIME to give myself a drink, as i clean the butter off of everything.
mmmm, overly man handed, full of (not properly washed) park hand germ biscuits...divine! butter does make everything taste better!
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