Cookie Jar

As I've gotten older (and wiser, because one doesn't necessarily denote the other) I've come to realize self respect and self control go hand in hand. Telling some asshole who doesn't appreciate you as a person to go scratch is the same as not eating a second cookie knowing it will only bring cellulite and/or higher blood sugars.

You may want to keep the asshole around for some sense of personal instant gratification, but in the long run, just like the extra cookie, that last bite will always leave you feeling guilty.





Yes, I am comparing men to cellulite.

Actually, now that I think about it... From the lips, right to the thighs and ass... 
Men ARE cellulite! Ground breaking!


But I digress. Sometimes settling for undeserving company, just to have company at all, is taking that second cookie. You're not eating it because you need it or because you're actually hungry... you're eating it because it's there and one cookie just didn't satisfy you.

I refuse to settle for an unsatisfying cookie. I will never stop believing that there's one person for every person, that makes wanting any other person impossible.

I'm  still looking for my one satisfying cookie...

(and to get rid of cellulite... let's be real here.)

No, I have not slept yet.

Really?

Yes, really. It's 6 am.

I'm not exactly up for early spin.

So... I'm awake.

Prior to leaving a friend's house, I decided to have a cup of coffee.

Why? 

Because I was a 20 minute ride on a dark highway away from home and could barely keep my eyes open. HOURS ago. While coffee provided me with the luxury of arriving home alive, I am now balls-to-the-wall wired.

It's 3:30am.

During my failed attempt at sleep, I did what everyone does.... I thought of Macaron flavors to experiment with tomorrow.

Oh, wait, you don't think of Macaron flavors while attempting to drift into blissful slumber?

......

SHEEP?? Well that's just stupid..

Anyway, if you don't know what Macarons are, they're little Krabby Patty-looking, brightly colored French sandwich cookies that will change. your. life.  If a cookie could be compared to any historical event, the French Macaron would rival discovering electricity. 

Think of your favorite cookie.

 This is that. 



 ...On crack.

Besides being completely crazy about the little gems, they are naturally gluten and lactose free.
I don't have to shit my brains out after I eat them.

In case you did not read my past entries, I have Colitis. That stunning visual usually happens right after I eat almost anything. Ok, honestly though, girls poop. If there were any that didn't... I'd have it covered enough for the both of us. Deal with it, I'm gross.

Anyway, back to Macarons... yeah, needless to say, I am a fan. Some ideas so far: 

Chestnut and Blood Orange Macarons
Chestnut and Chocolate Macarons
Kiwi and Caramel Macarons
Red Velvet Macarons
Chocolate and Hazelnut Macarons
Mint Cream Cheese Macarons

....Was the poop thing a bit much?

Whoops, I'm not sorry. 



Ms. Bradshaw?



So it's 12:30am and I am in bed watching another episode of Sex in the City. For anyone that is living a deprived life/hasn't been forced to watch by a girlfriend, Sara Jessica Parker portrays a single New York sex columnist named Carrie Bradshaw. She narrates throughout the show as she "writes" her pieces based on the trials of her life; while fabulously dressed, might I add.

While she flawlessly writes her fictitious articles in her perfectly staged Greenwich Village"apartment", 
I have my MacBook and my messy cozy suburban bedroom. She manages to stay hopelessly optimistic in her pursuit of the modern knight in shining armor while staying incredibly resilient and witty.

I am Carrie Bradshaw.

I think about all the couples that I aspire to be: Married for decades, still stupid-in-love, holding hands even if they're only walking ten feet... Here's the thing, people: 

THEY'VE BEEN MARRIED FOR DECADES. 

While it would be so easy to believe that no one wants this anymore, I remain optimistic. In a society where nannies push babies in strollers right NEXT to their mothers and a bride can be purchased through PayPal, I wonder: Is everything disposable or replaceable? Am I the only one remnant of a dead generation? Are those AHA! movie moments all bullshit?

Why is it that people want what they can't have and ignore whats right in front of them? 

It's 12:30 and I'm feeling philosophical. 

It all boils down to this: All I want is someone I can watch sports with, eat in bed at night with without judgement, spend Sundays in sweats with while not wearing a drop of makeup, someone to bitch at when I'm on the rag and hate the world, and someone who will hold me at the end of the day 
without thinking about some whore who's half as pretty and twice as easy as me.. (didn't say better, just said easier

Is that too much to ask for?

Screw it all. I'm going lesbian. Serious inquiries only.

Nightie night.

And so it begins...

Now that the awkward "Hey I'm a diabetic" shpeal is over, let's go over some other key points.

- I have a very brash, sarcastic, sometimes offensive sense of humor. 
- I'm not blogging to make my mortgage payments, 
  so feel free to navigate away from the page if you feel compelled to do so.
- I have Colitis.
- I will rant about things including but not limited to: 
      cramps,
      bowl movements, 
      foods that help or worsen the aforementioned topics, 
      and my general disdain for colonoscopies.
- I have ADD. Really bad ADD. 
- Don't try to make sense of anything I write. 
- Freud couldn't analyze the shit in my head.
- I have recently become a business owner. 
- My main goal is to make pastries and cakes that are  pretty, delicious, and are available in sugar-free       versions that don't taste like the bottom of a boot. 
- I've had some pretty horrific experiences working for people and it's just not my bag, baby. 
- So far I have a kitchenaid, some kick ass recipes, and enough determination to make Donald Trump blush. 
- I have dated the scum of the Earth. Trust me. I have scorned and been scorned. 
- This blog will also include plenty, PLENTY, of shit talking/dirty snippets of my ever-expanding, shit-show of a "love" life. 

You've been warned.

I do hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoy talking about myself.

SWFDPC: Single White Female Diabetic Pastry Chef

 I am a Type 1 Juvenile Diabetic. This isn't a blog about diabetes.

This is a blog about me. 

The function of (or lack thereof) my pancreas does not define me. I am a million things changing, growing, complicating. I am a pastry chef. Diabetic pastry chef. 

Irony and Icing... get it?

This blog is a collection of my life's daily trial and error. Rants, lessons in progress, lessons learned.
I'm here to publicize the nitty-gritty, ugly and pretty, mostly because I like attention, but also because I like complaining, bragging, and sometimes self deprecating. My life is an open book because I have no shame. My sense of self worth is almost at a narcissistic level. Brutally honest, totally real, what you see is what you get and being the shrinking violet that I am, I will show you everything.

Also, some insight: 

When I was diagnosed, diabetes was fabulously uncommon. Upon being told that his daughter was now a seven year old Diabetic, my father replied, "So should we start her on some antibiotics?" I actually had to teach my elementary school classes about diabetes. Don't get me wrong, I'm not asking for sympathy. I enjoyed every second of it; I love attention, remember? What I'm getting at is, more than anything, I want this blog to reach the diabetics in my age range because those self-help diabetic books suck, your doctor sucks, anyone who tries to explain what the hell a carb ratio sucks, 
and I don't. Chances are pretty high that you don't know any Juvenile Diabetics who are around your age. 

I'm not perfect and I'm not claiming to be. My blood sugars aren't perfect and I'm not setting out trying to tell you how to fix yours. I'm just trying to say...

                                 I  k n o w  w h a t  i t ' s  l i k e .

Marching to the beat of your own drum is something being a young diabetic forces upon you... 

....I'm still learning to embrace the rhythm.