Frigid Girl:

"It's that time of the year again. The heavenly, tempting, seductive pineapple tarts call to me with their siren song of promised delight from their little plastic containers of every bakery.

Well, they also promise bankruptcy and assured indigestion if I really do listen to them. No! I heroically stuff my ears with wax like the company of Odysseus did, or more accurately and literally with my iPod earphones and just walk away from the call of the sirens with a great measure of rue.

The smoothness of those lovely buttery pastry skins. The vividness of those eyes of pineapple paste winking invitingly at me.

I dream. I covet. I crave. I yearn. I pine. well... I buy. I imbibe.

What was it? Veni, vidi, vici? Yeah, I slavered, I purchased, I devoured.

Don't worry, folks, I'm, contrary to what you see here, very mentally fit.

pineapple tartttss. give me all the pineapple tarts you have! I'm going to ROB STEAL AND PLUNDER ALL YOUR PTs!!!!!"


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