No I don't mean the proabition treat, I mean this younger, selfish, "interest." Me and Mr. Moonshine have a history... well, it's more like a battle from The Cone Hill of Cocoa. A short-lived, waffle- pressed, hold the syrup kind of fling. He joined me for the eclipse, since his hometown was 2 hours from Charleston. It was a once-in-a-lifetime chance and he claimed to have been excited that it would be spent with me. I know, I know. But, I didn't have any other confidante so I welcomed the idea. Hindsight is more 20/20 than my vision has ever been. The eclipse was such a metaphor for this guy. He was there for brief connection and then never to return to our galaxy. Okay... It was only eight months, but still. We had a sprinkle of snapchat comments on pictures or crazy posts, but we didn't reunite until I was in his hometown and inquired of his plans for the day. Eagerly, he met up with me and my best friend and spontaneously started showering us with shots and beer. Bar to bar, he asked if we were staying the night and insisted we stay with him. After a night of clubbing, we stumbled back to his townhome where we were greeted by his boisterous and belligerent neighbors on the second floor. The three platinum blondes in bikinis invited us upstairs. It's no surprise that he didn't even hesitate in accepting the invitation. My best friend chose to stay in the townhome, while I ventured with him upstairs. Of course, one of the first questions they asked was: were we together. Immediately he said, "no" in a slightly disgusted kind of way. I wanted to say something because a guy like him would be so lucky to have a girl like me. Not trying to be pompous... But I'm just saying, he is no ice cream sundae, he's a melted Saturday after last call. There was certainly a reason we stopped talking and that will certainly surface in the next few sentences. After a bit of conversing with the bikini babes, they made their way to the first floor and onto the hot tub. He shouted after them that we would be right there and he followed me back to his townhome. He wasn't phased by me announcing I would not be in attendance. He didn't even try the cliche: "bra and panties are the same thing as bikinis anyway." Probably for best interest of his health. Instead, he grabbed his moonshine we had sipped on earlier and left. Left a girl that lives two hours away in his bed to be with three other girls. Best friend was asleep, so I laid there with his dog and was on the verge of getting sick when he returned. Apparently moonshine doesn't mix well with anything and I made myself a Triple Decker milkshake of bad alcoholic decisions.... Not to mention, I have been drinking since 1:30 that afternoon. Then he tried to get handsy with me and I immediately brought up his three friends that he could get handsy with. Of course he just dismissed it because they had boyfriends. The nerve! The absolute nerve! In the morning, my best friend asked if I was ready a little after 9 and I could not be more ready. He tried to plant his hands all over me, but bitch I'm no Garden. So I peeled him off of me like the film back to a sticker and thanked him for the drinks and the stay and have not heard from him since. He didn't care if we made it home safely, he didn't care very much to hug me when I left. Which is humorous because, any girl I know that would have been put in that situation, would have started World War 3. Oh, with no further delay, this melted Saturday gets the recipe of a sweet sugar cone with cake inside. Appearing to be an ice cream cone with refreshing frozen cream inside, it's really a children's novelty item with a cakey center. I have to upgrade to men and not boys with a hard on. Arrange 12 sugar ice cream cones (just have a flat bottom,line him) into a muffin tin. Whip up your favorite cake mix according to the dashing box directions and fill each ice cream cone with about 2 Tbsp. of batter. The batter should come to the lower inner rim of the ice cream cones. Bake cone cupcakes 20-30 minutes on 325. Top with sugar and spice and everything nice because boys don't come standard with that. Sugar cones up and squares that wanna bone, OUT.
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AuthorChef Steph cooking up trouble. If she can't find anything real, she bakes real good sweets. Chocolate really may mend a broken heart... Archives
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