Cake Boss lied to me; I thought they were gonna be life changing delicious. I felt like I was chewing on lavender soap. Took everything in me to suppress my gag reflex. Ughhh, epic dessert fail.
Okay my inbox ate your message and I didn’t see any way to message you on your blog so I’m replying this way…hopefully you’ll see it!
Haha that’s definitely not what they should taste like! The filling is a mixture of ricotta cheese and powdered sugar in a fried pastry tube, so it should taste sweet and kind of cheesecake-y. I dunno what happened with yours…maybe they accidentally spilled soap into the filling? Good luck finding the real deal!
“On a long day of lovemaking, You fed me orange sections In a morning break. They were commas between Two phrases of a love poem. Now I am floating on your citrus breath, I slake my thirst on your orange juicy kisses, Giving that tangy taste to all our fluids. As you press your…
“The female orgasm is a truly bizarre thing, some girls can have them every thirteen seconds just by wearing a tight pair of jeans and some girls can go their entire lifetime with out even having one. Lucky for me I’m an expert at giving girls orgasms just follow these simple steps. Step one: Go buy the girl you are attempting to give an orgasm to a Hitachi. Step two: Watch her have an orgasm after she plugs the thing in and puts in on her vagina. Step three: Put your penis in her and take all the credit.”—
“There are the occasions that men—intellectual men, clever men, engaged men—insist on playing devil’s advocate, desirous of a debate on some aspect of feminist theory or reproductive rights or some other subject generally filed under the heading: Women’s Issues. These intellectual, clever, engaged men want to endlessly probe my argument for weaknesses, want to wrestle over details, want to argue just for fun—and they wonder, these intellectual, clever, engaged men, why my voice keeps raising and why my face is flushed and why, after an hour of fighting my corner, hot tears burn the corners of my eyes. Why do you have to take this stuff so personally? ask the intellectual, clever, and engaged men, who have never considered that the content of the abstract exercise that’s so much fun for them is the stuff of my life.”—
I reblogged this before, but I like it a lot so I’m reblogging it again.
This whole thing is the reason why confrontations with people that I consider friends always leaves me crying. Like, I get so angry and so flustered because it’s not just some stupid game to me, like it is to them. It’s something that’s real and personal.
Well, that’s a pretty broad question. I’m much better at specifics if you wanna ask those, but let’s see:
20 year old girl of Italian descent studying art history and Italian at one of those fancy-smancy New England universities. From the South. Cats, cannoli, and cooking. Intern at my university’s LGBT Center and art gallery. Feminism saved my soul. Lucky to be in love with a ridiculously awesome Bulgarian boy, with lots of equally awesome kinky sex. Generally submissive, cis-gendered, and turned on by anything sexual.