In an ongoing effort to overcome my admittedly absurd fear of dinosaurs I bought a dinosaur (specifically a stegosaurus) cookie cutter and made dinosaur cookies. Basically, this was my attempt to make dinosaurs ridiculous thereby stripping them of their fear-inducing power over me. Like a cookie based Riddikulus spell. This plan was a two-parter.
Part 1: Make yummy dinosaur cookies.
Part 2: Watch Jurassic Park and see if dinosaurs still scare me.
The cookies were delicious and decorating a dinosaur with brightly colored sprinkles and pink icing definitely made it seem less scary but I think choosing an herbivore as my cookie cutter was a mistake. Because really, how much fear did stegosaurus’ really induce pre-sprinkle? Not much. I really should have chosen a T-Rex or Raptor because when I tried to watch Jurassic Park after baking, I found that those two still scare the rhymes-with-spit out of me. I didn’t make it through the movie. Not only did I not make it through the movie, I didn’t even make it through the first hour. The cookies tasted good though and were mighty helpful when I was eating my feelings of shame about not being able to watch a movie that most adults would consider only slightly scarier than Aladdin. (Jafar was really evil y’all, if I had known the term when I was 8, I would say he was a megalomaniac, but I stand by my description of him as a poopy-face.)
Although this little experiment was an overwhelmingly delicious failure, it did inspire me to coin the term SWA, which stands for “Spielberg Wins Again”. And it’s particularly relevant as I ‘ve recently read he’s eager to begin work on the fourth installation of Jurassic Park. SWA.
I love to bake. I’m a baking fiend and I usually make everything from scratch because I think it tastes best that way and also makes me feel more accomplished. There is nothing so satisfying as someone saying they like whatever you made and being able to say “Thanks, I made them from scratch.” It’s a pride issue.
But occasionally, I will make cookies from a box. Usually because I’m crunched for time or because I’m going to be putting a lot more effort in the decoration. And you know what? Those cookies always taste good. Sure, I don’t get to say “I made them from scratch.” but the compliments I get on how good they are still feel pretty great to hear. Although, I’ll be the first to admit I’m not always forthcoming with the “it came out of a box” confession. “Why not?”, you may ask. Well, because of incidents like this one.
Me: Look at this yummy peppermint chocolate mix I bought at the store today! They’re super fast and easy to make and taste great. We can take them to game night.
Cookie Shamer: (grimace) I’ve never had cookies out of a box before….(more grimacing)
Me: Oh. Ok.
At first I was shocked, then I was angry, then I forgot about it, then I got angry again. Those cookies are yummy gosh darnit and I don’t have all day to bake for game night. Sometimes, you have to take the quick route and if the quick route ends in tasty cookies then who the hell cares?! I will not allow myself to be cookie shamed! I bought box cookies, I’m going to make them in like 30 minutes, and they are going to taste wonderful! So there!
Anyway, I went and bought all the ingredients so I can make them from scratch. Apparently, I will allow myself to be cookie shamed.
Also, if you’re interested, I got the recipe for the cookies (and the image) from Sweet Pea’s Kitchen. It’s a delicious recipe!
The following account is completely true. (In my opinion)
My company’s Thanksgiving potluck lunch is today. So, I spent yesterday baking pumpkin cupcakes and apple pie. This story is not about that. It’s about what happened when I went to the grocery store to buy all the baking supplies I needed. It was a blistery night. The stars at night were big and bright (clap clap clap clap deep in the heart of Texas. – You might only get this if you’re from Texas. If you aren’t from Texas then just keep reading and accept there are some things you will never understand about this blog). I was at the grocery store late to avoid the crowds. Little did I know, I wasn’t alone.
Actually, I knew I wasn’t alone because, duh, I was at a grocery store. But that sounded more ominous than “there were at least 2o other people there, oh and also some ghosts.”
The ghosts were waiting for me. Waiting to turn my night into a confusing nightmare. I walked in the store with my grocery list in hand. Somehow, I suspect it was the ghosts, time sped up and I found myself in an aisle completely alone and without a grocery list. Panic took over. My entire 2 hours with that list flashed before my eyes and I couldn’t help but reminisce about the time in the fruit aisle when that list saved me from buying only 4 apples when I needed 8. Desperately, I searched for my list. It wasn’t in any of the usual places, my purse, my pockets, my shoe. I paced up and down every aisle, looking for where I might have accidently set my list down and walked away from it. How could I have taken such advantage of it? Why did I have to lose it to appreciate it? Then I realized, something else was afoot. I’m not usually that forgetful. Never before have I lost a list. I stopped right where I was and, like Sherlock Holmes, used my logic to solve the mystery of the kidnapped list. The answer was so simple. Ghosts.
There was no other explanation. It had to be ghosts. But what had I done to offend them? How could I contact them to discuss the return of my beloved list? Apparently, they weren’t in the mood to communicate because no matter what I did, no matter how many times I screamed out loud, or spoke in tongues, or did the “We need to talk” dance, they wouldn’t answer. I’m only left with one conclusion. The ghosts who haunt my grocery store are the ghosts of former hooligans who take the greatest pleasure in tomfoolery. My guess is that the grocery store was built on some kind of graveyard that was reserved for hooligans. Way to think ahead grocers. Everyone knows you don’t build things on graveyards.
What else could I do but continue shopping and leave my list behind never to be seen again? I had to move on with my life. If the situation was reversed I would want the list to move on. The hooligan ghosts win this time. I have a game plan for next time though and without going into too much detail- it involves slingshots as peace offerings.
I share the story to warn you of the dangers of grocery store hooligan ghosts. No one seems to have ever talked about them before, and I can only assume that is because people are afraid. Well, I’m not. I want the world to know that grocery store hooligan ghosts exist. I’m like a crusader (except this isn’t religious and I certainly won’t be killing anyone). I am the Norma Rae of the grocery store hooligan ghost industry. You’ve been warned. Tell your friends.