Distracting cookie magic

Guess what?

This morning I broke up with my bed and embraced my inner-sexy-Stewart. Yes. I have finally made the notorious chocolate chip cookies. They are nestled lovingly inside of my cookie jar right now.

That is not an innuendo. At all.

I have an actual cookie jar. And it is always full of cookies. That I have baked all by myself from scratch and not purchased from the store. (Mostly because I hate store bought cookies. They taste chemical-y. And if they do not taste chemical-y than they are crunchy. Cookies should be soft and chewy, never crunchy. Somebody write this down and pass a law.)

I very much like bribing my guests into loving me with home baked goods. So I am always baking and making said goods in case any guests drop by. My cookie jar must always contain cookies. It is the only charm I have. The sweetness of the cookies distracts people from my cripplingly sarcastic remarks and general hatefulness.

That is the magic of my cookies. (You may take that as you please. Both my figurative and literal cookies are amazing.)

Ack!ward

So right now would be the peeerrfeeectt time to make those cookies I was talking about yesterday.

Except guess what I am doing instead. Yes. Laying in my seductive bed. Plus this time I have brought the computer. Threesome. Oh yeah.

No sex with inanimate objects involved. Just extreme laziness.

Last night went well. I made shredded beef and cheese enchiladas. Except minus that radioactive bright red canned enchilada sauce because that stuff is DISGUSTING. I know that is how 90% of white people make them, but not me. I have my own secret sauce.

Yes. Secret sauce. Stop being dirty. It's delicious.

Also made black beans and rice. I am all making my mexican last name proud.

Yes I am a green-eyed, blonde-haired, white-out-colored girl with a mexican last name. Think Sanchez or Martinez. Except neither of those because I'm not telling you my real last name. But it is like that.

Okay, people think. She must have just married a mexican guy. Except when people meet my husband they are even more confused. While he is 100% mexican, he does not look it. He has black-ish hair, dark-ish eyes and skin almost as white as mine. Yes, he is all pale for a mexican. Mostly people think he is armenian.

So I am white and he is armenian, and we have a very mexican last name that confuses people.

To make things even more confusing. My dad, the man my mom has been married to for 20-ish years, the man who raised me, the man who adopted me but is NOT my biological father, is italian. He has black-ish hair, dark-ish eyes and light-ish skin.

When we meet my parent's friends they think I am my mother's daughter and my husband is my dad's son. Which would make us step-siblings.

So my husband and I start dry humping as soon as they mention this.

If we have to be creeped out by the idea of us being step siblings? Then they will be witnesses to our awkward, creepy, step-sibling love.

And I hope they have nightmares.

The story of the bed that ate the cookies and the pizza that didn't call and order itself.

I have 9 minutes to write this post.

9 minutes until I have to run out to my car, drive my butt to my freezing cold apartment and hurriedly prepare dinner.

Why you ask?

The in-laws are coming! The in-laws are coming!

Okay, really, they don't care. I have awesome in-laws. I could order pizza. They would be amazed at superior calling-and-ordering-and-picking-up-abilities.

I am just holding myself to my own ridiculous sexier-Martha-Stewart-with-more-cookies-and-less-jail-time standards.

I am sad that I did not have time to make cookies this morning. Probably could have if I would have just gotten out of bed. But the bed was all holding me down and trapping me. I was suffocated by it's warm, friendly, affectionateness. I was seduced.

And now there are no cookies. My bed ate the cookies!

Yes. That is what I will tell them...

I typed the above in 2 minutes and then my brain started wandering around, shouting random things and I got distracted for 6 minutes.

So now it's time to leave. Bye!

I constantly impress myself with my excellent decision making.

I really wanted to write something today.

But now my husband is laying in bed half naked and all sexy.

Stupid distracting husband.

I'm sorry. I can't think of anything to write over the sound of my desperate sex-demanding vagina.

Hard and steely, if you know what I mean.

So I just spent the last hour trying to think of a name for this blog.

Because I have sucked up all my brain power trying to think of something sufficiently meaningful to me, I don't have the energy to write a real post.

So I leave you with what I wrote about my husband in an old blog after I first met him.

It was OBVIOUSLY love at first sight, by the way.

I made a new little friendly. His name is Gray. He is quite entertaining to my soul, but perhaps the most awkward texter on the face of the planet. Almost anything I say is met with some bland, inappropriate response. For instance:

Me: "So today I saw the cutest little baby.. then I chopped it up with a butcher knife and cooked it in some soup. Delicious."
Gray: "Cool. What are you doing tomorrow?"

I am 90% sure he is a robot.

And THAT is what I originally thought of the man I have promised the rest of my life to. Awesome.

Also now that we are married and have had sex-relations I can confirm that he is, in fact, a robot.