Sometimes I feel that if I went back in time and killed Ruth Wakefield, the inventor of the chocolate-chip cookie, before inspiration struck her, all of my problems would be solved.
Then I think about how unimaginably bleak life would be in that alternate present, and I change my mind.
Not that I gained five pounds over the weekend or anything.
The only Ruth Wakefield was the mother of the Wakefield twins from Sweet Valley High.
Don’t blame poor Ms. Wakefield! You did not touch a single chocolate-chip cookie during the portion of the weekend you were under my supervision! 🙂
Bleak, perhaps, but had Ms. Wakefield not done the deed, you could have been the inventor of the triple c, and then not only would you have unimaginable wealth, but gay men everywhere would simultaneously loathe and worship you, and what could be better than that?
I paid a handsome sum years ago to add a signed first of Ruthie’s “Toll House Cookbook” to my collection, and let me tell you the rest of her food is just as good and just as bad for you. (Chicken Ã la King that could kill you on contact.)
Life is too short to cut all the fat grams.
Nice to swing back into your orbit again after all these years, Faustus.
Oh great. Now I need cookies.
If you used time travel for something so rash, you would come back to a horrible dystopian society, where everyone was thinner than you! No one wants that.
In my case it would be a double homocide. Both Ben and his cohort Jerry must pay for what they’ve done to me.
There couldn’t have been a more perfect post for me to discover you with. To the blogroll you go.
Come to my BBQ and you’ll curse Ruth Wakefield again. I make a killer chocolate-chip cookie that’s better than Toll House. I’ll hide the bathroom scales. xoxoxo