Betty freaking McCrocker

I know it's Betty Crocker...but I'll never forget the time at Indiana State when a bunch of us tried to make those cut and bake Pillsbury cookies and burned them to shit.

One of my good friends from that year was a bit baked herself, and when we laughed at her for burning the cookies, she replied with a slightly slurred, "What? I'm not Betty freaking McCrocker."

What followed was a perfectly placed bit of silence that turned into a fit of laughter.

Anyhow, that's all beside the point. Tonight, I bake. In the Betty McCrocker way...not the Cheech and Chong way.

Unless Cheech and Chong make Valentine's Day cookies.

And when I say bake...I mean bake. From-scratch sugar cookies with from-scratch icing.

It's gonna be nuts.

I may just capture this fiasco on video.

You know, thinking about my first attempt at college just brought up another memory about baked goods.

You know those Little Debbie brownies? The fudgy ones with the nuts in them? Well, I had bought some for my dorm room one time and it happened to be just before our RA called our floor to a meeting on our bathroom etiquette.

Apparently some of the girls had a hard time cleaning up after themselves...leaving things in the toilet...or dropping shredded pieces of t.p. all over the ground. Pretty disgusting.

What irritated me and my friends was the fact that we were getting scolded for other people's nastiness.

After the meeting we met up to discuss, and in turn hatched a plan.

We took a few of those brownies, warmed them up in our hands, and molded them like clay into, well, into a giant turd. It was brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.

We snuck to the bathroom, where we appropriately placed the brownie-turd on a toilet seat, and a little in the bowl.

Then we waited.

And waited.

And waited.

My friend's dorm was right outside the bathroom, so between snickers and laughter, we would just listen.

And then...the payoff.

The loudest, most disgusted shriek flew from the bathroom. There were even a few gags. Then a rush of people down the hall.

And finally, above all the commotion was the voice of our RA, "You guys! Come on. We JUST talked about this!"

She. Was. Pissed.

We were still in the room laughing our sneaky little asses off. They actually thought someone had shit on the toilet seat.

Amazing.

So...yes, tomorrow morning, if you work with me, expect cookies.

And I promise, no mushed up, turd-shaped brownies on any of the toilet seats.