Satan’s Chunky Excrement

I am powerless to refrigerated cookie dough. When I go to the supermarket, I have no intention of buying it. I’m not even hungry. And I know exactly what I need and have no business being in that section. And yet I find myself there, staring at the packages. Triple chocolate? Brownie fudge? Peanut butter delight? I can’t decide. I’ll take all 3. Don’t worry I won’t eat them all. Not tonight, not all in one sitting. Continue reading Satan’s Chunky Excrement