There is this delightful little twinkie-like cake called a Zinger. My old roomie, Janet, introduced me to the Zinger. During certain times, times of high stress and times of hormonal hijinkery (no it is not a word, but it sounds good doesn't it?) I crave a Zinger. Today was one of those days (just for your knowledge and in the interest of putting too much information out there in blogosphere/cyber-world this particular instance is due to my hormones. Obtuse men that means I'm on the rag. If you don't know what that means, you're not allowed to read my blog anymore. You're banished).
All I wanted was a Zinger. And my Dominick's was out of Zingers. Shock. Anger. Despair. Solution: Krispy Kremes!
And my Dominick's was out of Krispy Kreme donuts. Anger. Despair.
So now I'm here gorging on E.L. Fudge cookies. It could be worse, but it could be a delicious Zinger. Stupid small grocery store.
And you thought I was weird for eating Zingers. Damn good for crapping food. BTW, got the purse last week. I love it! I've carried everyday since. I've been crazy busy with rotations. Will try to talk soon.
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