What the hell does proof of my obscene sugar consumption say about me?
~I'm sweet. Maybe it's the millions of tiny, manufactured crystals, but in general, if a zombie were to eat me (NOT innuendo), they'd compare me to an extra-large cupcake with butter cream icing + extra sprinkles. Then they'd get a belly ache. And throw me up.
~"Give me MOREMORE-f@ck moderation." I've never done anything in moderation. I eat, drink, blog, love, desire, create and think in excess. I believe all of life's answers are found only after you've done something way too many times to count.
~I look for magic in the un-magical.The stray packet laying in the lower left corner of the picture is making me nutso. If I could rewind time, I would put that M. Effer into the big pile, because my OCD says so. And I think it's staring at me. *blinks* It totally is. I think it's corner just ruffled. *blinks again* Never mind. It was just my phone vibrating near the computer.
~I hallucinate. If you look closely, the vague shape of Matt Brady's face is in the center of the sweetness. It clearly says "marry me, Candyland." You don't see it? You're looking at it wrong. Un-focus your eyes, blink twice, turn the computer upside down, have a shot of tequila, and then tell me. Do you see it now? I thought so.
~I crash and burn. In everything in life, no matter how much I eat, drink, love, blog, desire, create and think, I inevitably fall. And it usually hurts. The only resolution is to find more sugar. Nomnomnom.
So tell me, friends, what do you enjoy in EXCESS?
Candyland (sweet as sugar). OUT.