Cookies. . . . I've always had a love hate relationship with the little fuckers. I have limit issues. . . like there are no limits. . . know what I'm saying? I've never been in love with someone who cooks or bakes, until Polly. I think, she bakes when she's stressed. She's stressed and I'm gaining weight. . . WHAT! During her shooting season (CSI:Miami) when she bakes cookies, I eat some that night and the rest go to work with her in the morning to share w/ the gang (Good Plan). During her hiatus, things getting out of hand. The other night I told her I couldn't stand the cookies mocking me from the other room, in their plastic container. Damn Cookies! I informed her that to help curb the the endless eating of empty (but tasty) calories, I was going to hide the cookie container in the oven (out of sight, out of mind, out of belly. . . right). So, I go to work and later in the evening she preheats the oven to cook dinner and ohhhhhh what a mess. I love my girl and she loves me. . . . and we've agreed that I can hide the cookies from myself anywhere that doesn't get hot.
Over and out