Yes! That’s what I was expecting, too. Ah, well. 

It’s okay. I see you. 

Yup. Every single sample I have ever gotten from their line makes me think, “This is fantastic. I’m a grown-ass woman and I will buy this to use all the ti- oh, fck? It costs $180? I’m not that grown-ass yet.”

I just panic shopped and got a confirmation on my order at 10:37. We’ll see if it’s actually fulfilled and shipped. 

And when they are all puffed up in the cold, they are borbs. 

Okay, but here’s the thing: Back when I was a kid, Funfetti cake and frosting didn’t have sprinkles in it, it had tiny little colored chips, made out of what was likely the cheapest wax-laden version of white chocolate, or whatever Wilton’s makes their gross candy melts out of. It was far superior.

Are you fucking me with this shit?

Well, now I know what I’m getting embroidered on a fancy pillow for my boudoir.

I can’t even wrap my head around this. I want to eat my whole house because of how the ghee makes it smell.

Yup. I just recently read this as “Stop trying to change your habit, and change your habitat.”

I used to work at my hometown paper. I thought it was bad when the intern submitted a story about a local kid who would be driving the Hershey Kiss-mobile for the summer with the suggested headline “Local Teen Prepares to Hit the Hershey Highway.” The older editor didn’t get the joke and ran it.

That was Urban Fervor.