Double Caramel Magnum

Since the voting for the blogger awards has officially gotten in my head and now I’m practically incapable of being funny right when it’s the most important, I thought what better way to get back into the groove than with revamping some of my (likely) never before seen early blogging attempts fails.
So, each week on #ThrowbackThursday before voting closes, I’ll be sharing an OG post that I’ve revived and corrected (all of the terrible grammar has, hopefully, been remedied*) just for your reading pleasure.
I truly hope you enjoy this lame, half-assed attempt at showing you what I’ve got.
The post I’m sharing today is nearly three years old and, I believe, the fifth blog post I wrote on Fatty McCupcakes. I think it got maybe three likes. Enjoy.


The rain had stopped, but for a few random drops here and there that danced on newly formed puddles. The air was heavy with moisture and the sweet aroma of grass, wet earth, and grateful flowers. It was the perfect opportunity to throw on the forgotten I’m-finally-going-to-get-serious sneaks and take a walk.
(I’ve really set the scene here, have I not?)
The boyfriend and I set off down the street, dodging puddles and catching raindrops on our tongues. We were child-like in our glee. I felt it the perfect time to start anew. The clean air filled my dusty lungs. My calves felt stronger with every stride.
I made up my mind that this beautiful, hopeful Sunday would be the day I set my mind to certain changes.
(For the 3,567,473 time I was going to really get serious about shit.)
We kept up a brisk pace, and with every step, I felt my muscles grow stronger and stronger still. I imagined my fat melting off. I was practically 20 pounds lighter. It was glorious.
As we neared 7-11, our pace grew quicker still, in anticipation of some healthy water or sugar-free gum. Healthy, responsible options.
(Because, those are the kinds of things that really make me want to break a sweat.)
As we pranced into the store, I repeated my mantra, “We’ve come for sugar free gum and water. That’s all you want. Mmmmm water.”
My eyes were fixed on the gum on the top shelf, but I was keenly aware that one false move would direct my gaze straight to the Kit Kat bars and gummy bears.
“Don’t look down, don’t look to the right, don’t look to the left, LOOK NOWHERE,” I whispered to myself.

I had expert tunnel vision, eyeing only the Orbit Bubble Mint like a good fat girl.
Then, a flash of gold to my right. Gleaming gold. Gold and creamy brown. I knew without looking, it was temptation at its rawest. It was a Magnum Double Caramel.
No. No. No. I came for gum. I came for fitness. I came to say I walked to 7-11 and didn’t buy a donut.
The boyfriend also saw what I was trying not to see, and the devious ice cream bar pulled him in as well. The draw of the Magnum is a force greater than love, magnetism, gravity.
Without actually feeling or knowing, I opened the sliding door, selected two bars, placed them on the counter and then somehow, I was outside, panting, sweating, shaking.
Without saying a word and with only a knowing glance, we both realized we needed to make it home with our spoils in one piece. Walking and eating ice cream like some kind of lame scene in a herpes commercial was absolutely out of the question. One can’t enjoy ice cream while wheezing and sweating. How were we going to prevent meltage?
We.ran.like.hell.
(Never before had we run with such conviction, such determination.)
My lungs burned. My feet pounded the pavement with the force of the gods. My calves seized, my belly shook, and my knees buckled. I can’t be sure what kept me going, but my guess would be the fear that the inevitable melting of the ice cream bar would compromise its integrity. This would compromise my enjoyment. And you absolutely can’t have that.
We made it home in record time to enjoy our ice cream the only way I know how- on the couch in previously ice cream-stained sweats and a good Netflix binge.
#WillRunForDoubleCaramelMagnums

*I’m almost certain that this post is riddled with grammar mistakes and incorrect verb tenses. I tried.

Felony Stop

All we wanted was ice cream. Dairy Queen Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough Blizzards, to be exact. But, it’s never that simple when you’re a couple of fatties going for ice cream you really don’t need. Oh no.
Let me tell you the story of how an innocent trip to the local DQ ended up in a felony stop. Yes, you read that right.
Continue reading “Felony Stop”

At Least I Have Ice Cream

Am I the only one who has those kinds of days where amidst the crap and absolute fuckery, you realize there is a carton of ice cream in the freezer, the same ice cream you bought the other day and actually forgot about, and…
It makes everything OK? 
Then, every time the stress starts creeping like the neighborhood weirdo, you remember that frozen goodness and it’s OK again? 
You think, “At least I have ice cream.” 
Am I the only one who is reassured by the promise of gluttony? 
Please tell me I’m not…
Either way, I can’t wait until it’s Ice Cream Time. 
  
The actual ice cream I dreamed about all day. 
  

Yes, that’s a cereal bowl that I plan to eat my ice cream out of. Yes, that’s a piggy spoon. Don’t judge me. 

Cold Stone Ice Cream-Eating-Machine

Yesterday was a momentous day! July 16th marked 4 years that my boyfriend and I have not murdered each other in our sleep. Also, I became a regular on Yelp at Cold Stone Creamery. Nothing says you have a problem with food like publicly becoming an ice cream shop frequent flyer. 
  
I had to take a screenshot of this exciting new level of fatness. I have to say, it was totally my boyfriend’s fault I became a Yelp regular. He wanted to go get ice cream, I did not. OK. That’s a boldfaced lie. I wanted ice cream. 
To celebrate this crowning achievement, I thought I would share my mental process when getting ice cream at Cold Stone. First, I have to explain that I’m a very anxious person by nature. I’m always “go, go, go”, and “hurry the hell up”. I hate waiting, and I despise being held up by incompetence. Most importantly, I hate having to waste my precious time on someone who can’t decide what kind of ice cream they want. Life is way too short and precious to mess around with not understanding your relationship with frozen sugared cream. Get it together, world. 
Approaching the last major intersection before the shopping center that houses Cold Stone:
I mean, really. Can we drive any fucking slower? Are you trying to be the only one who gets through the damn light?! Gaaaah. Yup. I hate everyone. 
*This may or may not be merely an angry thought. I may or may not be yelling the above out my window. 
OK, here we go. There’s Cold Stone. Only 20 yards away. Come to Mama. Here I am. 
Who are all these people taking up these parking spots? Why are there always so many people out and about? Don’t you have jobs? Go to work. Go home. Jeez. Now I have to park like a mile away. 
Addressing my boyfriend:
“Shit! Look at that family of like 50 approaching the door? Hurry! Let’s run! We have to beat them! They will ALL want to try ALL of the flavors! Hurry!” 
Because my boyfriend fully endorses NOT running towards your ice cream, the family beats us. 
*Sending death glares to my jerk boyfriend as we wait for Mom, Dad, and their 48 children to try every fucking flavor. 
Really? You want to try vanilla? Now you’re just being an ass. You’re doing it on purpose. 
Why is that person staring at me? Oh, in my mad rush to get here, I forgot to put on my bra. Again?! This can’t keep happening, Katie. 
Finally, it’s our turn! I’m going to be sensible and try ONE flavor, and I’ll be quick. I’ll show everyone how it’s done. 
My boyfriend: “Really, Katie. Why do you insist on trying Oreo cream-filling every time when you know you’re getting Cake Batter with rainbow sprinkles?” 
*Sending death glares again. 
I indicate to the employee, who I know like the back of my hand, that I will, indeed, have my regular. Our ice cream is done and waiting in a paper bag, but  50-member-family is holding up the entire line trying to pay for their $500 worth of ice cream. 
Great, just great. My ice cream is melting while you allow your 5 year-old to count change for you. Why do bad things happen to good people? 
As my boyfriend and I walk/run to the car:
Me: “If we go out this first exit, we could bypass all of the people crossing from Marshall’s.”
Boyfriend: “Yes, but there isn’t a turn lane, we might get stuck behind someone going straight!” 
Me: “You’re right. OK, here’s the game plan…”
On the drive home, I run 2 lights and almost hit a garbage can that some idiot left too far out into the street. All I can focus on is the speed at which my precious ice cream is melting. 
Finally, home! Fat pants, Netflix, and a pint of ice cream so thick, I have to chew it! Heaven!