She-Man

I conquered the universe last night. No, really.

So I found this recipe (pronounce ree-CIPE or, in an alternate Itanglish universe, reh-CHEE-pay) online for big soft happy fluffy i-don't-need-your-stinking-atkins-bullsheet pretzels. They looked yummalicious, so I decided to try to make them. I mean, I have bowls and spoons and one sad old cookie sheet... I'm totally set to bake.

But then something amazing happened! I remembered... wait for it... how good brie is. I KNOW, right? Crazy. Anyhow, on an highly experimental whim, I decided I was smart enough and bake-savvy enough to stuff these big pretzels with brie before baking them. I would later affectionately call them "brietzels". How could any part of that be bad?

It could have been a disaster, actually, but OH MY GOD it most certainly was not. The little brietzels huffed and puffed and melted inside and baked up just perfectly, and six people went through 16 brietzels in one night. We experienced full-on brietzel mania up in my crib, and, hoo wee, doggy, for shizz, yo. On the really real.

When I woke up this morning and realized all the brietzels were gone, I actually mourned... Maybe because I'd only had three hours of sleep, but I had to choke back the tears, yo. The brietzels: they were here only briefly (pun very much intended), but they brought so much joy...

I'm now on a mission to stuff as much crap as I can into pretzels. Then I'll become locally famous and have a stand at the mall or something and people will love me. No, really, everyone will love me, dammit!

Thank you.