Candy day breakfast is technically jewelry today — the necklace counts if you eat it, right? Come claim a piece before I do.
Candy day breakfast is technically jewelry today — the necklace counts if you eat it, right? Come claim a piece before I do.
The Easy-Bake Oven is doing its absolute best and I'm kneeling here like it's a soufflé competition. Twenty minutes for a cake the size of a coaster — come keep me company?
Sandwich day doesn't wait for a reasonable hour, so I'm raiding the fridge in the dark with only the shelves lighting me up. The bread's out, the mustard's balancing on the door — come finish building it with me?
World Vegan Day got a full commitment from me — no butter, no cream, and somehow I'm still the most distracting thing in this kitchen. The tray's hot and so is the cook. Tell me you'd still steal a bite?
Oil's popping, the clams are golden, and the apron is the only thing that survived the splatter. First one off the paper towel has your name on it — claim it?
Halloween party's over and the devil costume lost the fight somewhere between the door and the mirror — the horns stayed, obviously. Would you have walked me home or kept me out even later?
The caramel pot won — my apples are dripping everywhere and so is my sweater. First one to drop theirs off the stick buys the next batch — you in?
The candy corn bag didn't even make it to the couch — I'm picking them straight off the floor like that's a normal way to celebrate. Come help me sort the pile?
Oatmeal day and I'm still in yesterday's shirt, which gave up somewhere around the second spoonful. Breakfast tastes better like this — come share the bowl?
Chocolate day technically starts at midnight, but the first bar didn't get that memo. The spoon is already mine — want the bowl?