The impurity's gone. No more of that.

Now I can sleep at night... maybe.

Til then I'll slurp my iced coffee and try not to think about my brain collapsing in on itself.

Tune out the white noise and try to get over things I thought I was over.

Why is it that when you think the coast is clear, and you begin to step out of the shadows, some monster's claw/tentacle/hand/noodly appendage has to reach out and drag you back? If I burn all the evidence, will it go away? Tried it once, didn't work, all your left with is ashes and angry neighbors. You can smoke/drink/snort/pop your way to ten minutes of a good thing, but it always comes down to more tears and a headache.

Sometimes all that's left is getting rid of everything. E. Ver. Y. Thing.

And that, dears, is why every Thursday night I have to sit in a circle and listen to people twice my age complain about how they managed not to stick their fingers down their throats today and it's tearing them apart with guilt. Or they ate a lick of an ice cream cone and it's tearing them apart with guilt. Or they ate the whole damn Baskin Robbins and it's tearing them apart with guilt. I guess everybody needs a pity party now and then, but weekly?

Updates? Hmm...

Well, my birthday cake from last month could become F00DP0RN#2, since I took some pretty up-close-and-personal shots of it. You could practically taste the Cool Whip and that hint of laziness the Pillsbury Doughboy adds to anything.

Baked lemon bars today but they were ugly. Once I make PRETTY lemon bars I'll post F00DP0RN#3.

Anything else I can whip up and drown in caramel and powdered sugar I'll be sure to shoot before I feed it to the masses. And by masses I mean my garbage disposal. Or my mom, whoever reaches it first.