If you're not "up" on the latest Halloween treats, then let me fill you in; 3 cups sugar, 3 cups Karo, 3 cubes butter, a smidgen of green food coloring and vanilla, and six All a dollar bags of Bugles. Which translates into 2 1/2 extra chins for my missionary son to pretend he doesn't notice when he gets off the plane in a couple of months. And we take lots and lots of family pictures, proving my excessive chin ratio. And I tug nervously at my uncomfortably tight cardigan that's meant to camouflage the rolls of not boob but slap on a nipple and suddenly yes, could be boob, fat rolls. I like to think ahead, people. And then act with wisdom and restraint when faced with temptation. I don't like how you're looking at me right now—if I didn't know better, I'd think you were making some sort of judgment call...unrighteously. (two fingered eyeball point)
Anyway, I did okay, in that I gave three of the six portions away. But if you graduated high school business math with a flourish, like I did, you'll conclude that there were still three portions left.
In my kitchen.
In a bowl.
Staying gooey under the warm halogen lights.
You might notice there's no picture of said booger snot witch noses attached to this blog post. That's on account of I had to destroy the evidence. They were the voice in my head all last night, early this morning, continuing on until around dinner time. I had no choice but to silence their screams over the course of 24 hours with my teeth and stomach acid. So it's okay—you can come out now. You're safe. The wicked witch noses are dead.
And you're welcome.