An Extremely In-The-Now Blog Post

To the person somewhere on the other side of the nice, warm breeze wafting through my apartment laced with the aroma of the golden yellow cake they're baking: I hate you.

I hate you and your cakey vanilla-y bliss. I have fruit. I have no cake. I wish I had cake. Because then I could have my cake and eat it too.

But, no. I can have a wedge of pineapple. But it's the wrong kind of golden yellow. Instead of Dole, I want Betty Crocker.

And it's your fault, scent-wafter. So I hate you.

And I'm going to have a beer and pineapple.

(But really rather cake. Damn you. Mmf.)