The only good part about Valentine’s Day is Bree’s annual cookie-decorating soiree, which I’ve missed for the past three years. I was back in full effect on Sunday, Super Bowl be damned. I am a cookie-decorating rockstar (and stylish plate fiend). BOOYAH!
This poor swine has the flu.
TRAMP STAMP COOKIE!
For the record, I (obviously) oppose misogyny, including blanket, derogatory predictions about a woman’s sexual mores based on a predilection for dumb tattoos. But they really are dumb tattoos. What’s a post-feminist to do?
How about attend a gathering of cloying domesticity (baked treats party, SQUEAL!) and make a bad-ass cookie, pun pretty much intended, that represents a literal inversion of the sanitized Valentine’s Day symbol of love and romance back into its traditional representation: female genitalia.