Oh yeah. Corn, dairy, gluten, wheat, and nuts be damned.
Nobody better lay a finger on my Butterfinger(s).
I tried one of these when was in the U.S.A. many years ago in my youth, (because who could resist Bart Simpson's marketing tactics? And skateboard?) and I fell in love. Hard. Not with him, with the mighty Butterfinger.
Well, I learned last year that my
|Aaaaah Butterfinger........ *shudder*|
Okay, side note, I totally googled "orgasm face" and found this picture immediately. This girl LOOKS like me, appears to have a mark where a nose ring would be (where mine USED to be) and has similar ear piercings in the same spots (but my third lower one is now defunct). If I didn't know any better, I would seriously think this was me. But it is not. Seriously, really, seriously. I even have two yellow towels like that. Day-um.
That also reminds me - I found this naked-artsy picture once and told a friend it was me. It LOOKS like it could have been me. But again, it is not. If I find it, I will post it for you. Because I am sure that would interest you. You pervs.
|The partial aftermath (this was bag #2 remnants). (No, this is not the artsy nude photo in my likeness. Though I see how you might confuse a that and a pretty pink trash bag).|
I force fed BF perhaps 10 at best. I gave my dad one at a hockey game. I also gave my niece one. I bought three bags of 30 count. That means that approximately 78 of these bastards are making their way (albeit painfully) through my digestive tract, with a direct endgoal of my ass/saddlebaggage.
Stupid lack of self-control + 50% off candy + Bart Simpson + Mmmmmmm chocolate.
I am finally (supposedly) going back to blond(er) tomorrow. Wish me luck because we all know how well salon and spa experiences tend to work out for me.
I hope these babies don't decide to revolt or make some sort of statement while I am sitting in a salon chair with crazy ass foils all over the place at the mall. (Why ARE mall bathrooms always so far away, no matter where you are in the mall??!)
I digress. And by digress I mean "publish, go to bed, and don't look back."
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