I had grand plans to post a recipe for the Chocolate Stout Cupcakes & Bailey’s Buttercream frosting I made last night, but quite frankly, I just didn’t have the energy. Plus, it wasn’t my idea/recipe, so isn’t that stealing? Just get a box of chocolate (or devil’s food – whateva) cake mix, and follow the instructions on the back, except substitute your choice of beer (I used Chocolate Stout but Guinness would work) in place of the water. Then, make ya favorite buttah-cream frosting, except instead of milk, add Bailey’s.
BADA BING BADA BOOM.
Why the hell was it snowing before? It’s March 15th. FIF. TEENTH. March. I realize I live in upstate NY and I realize this is said every year, but there’s just something so Spring-sounding about that date, no?
March 15th, 1995
Me and Nicole rode our bikes today. I went really fast down the hill. It was fun. Then, we drew a chalk mall on our driveway. It was fun. Then it got dark and my mom made us come inside and I was really mad. I want to play outside again tomorrow.
Do you believe that was a real diary entry I wrote? You do? Well, it’s not. But you believed it because it was dated March 15th and that is something that is SO easy to picture when you think, oh hey, it’s March 15th. Ugh. I also have to point out that I know it should say “Nicole and I” for the start of the first sentence, but I was trying to make this more believable.
St. Patrick’s Day is on Sunday and nothing excites me more than to say that I will not be partaking in any of the parades/drinking all day/hungover all day/festivities. I am old and I don’t give a hoot who knows it. Plus, I’m still recovering from New Orleans. Do you think they offer knitting classes on the weekends for 20-somethings?
Aren’t you glad that I write the majority of these posts at midnight? My word, you’re so lucky to be given such a close glimpse into this crazy mind of mine.
Welp, this is now sufficiently awkward. I’m not really sure how to end this. High five? Hugs all around? A tip: Don’t frost & write.