Pajammy Party

Pillow fights, secrets, s'mores and scary stories. Sleeping bag not required.

Somewhere in hell, a new circle is being built for me

I am not Willy Wonka, I am the chocolate factory.

And, at the insane hour of 4 in the morning, my biggest problem was continuing to make chocolate treats with my left hand as my right hand shoved pork rind after pork rind into my mouth.

This is after attacking two plates of buffalo wings and a plate of calamari with my friends.

This is after shunning the spread for adults and raiding the kiddie buffet at a children’s party because I wanted to stuff my face with mac and cheese, grilled cheese sandwiches and battered and deep-fried sausages.

I wish I can blame this on the vodka but I can’t. I really can’t.

This is beyond gluttony.

Somebody whip me with pasta. But make sure it’s covered with carbonara sauce. And don’t forget the bacon.


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