Last Saturday

Me: I made red velvet brownies! You have to try them.

Mr. HS: No. *shakes head*

Me: No? Not even a bite? You won’t even taste them?

Mr HS: No.

Me: Are you kidding me? Not even a taste?

Mr. HS: No! Because I’ll want to eat then entire pan. I can’t stop at one taste! *gnaws on a chicken breast*

Me: Well, this can be a good lesson in moderation?

[Later that evening.]

Me: Just a bite. Please? I need you to tell me if they are good!

Mr. HS: No! *shakes head*

Me: Seriously. Are you kidding me? Just take a taste. *cuts a brownie*

Mr. HS: Why do you do this to me, woman? *eats brownie*

Me: Good?

Mr. HS: &$%#! They are amazing. That’s it. No more. *eats a second brownie*


Me: I gave the brownies to Andy.

Mr. HS: What?! Why? *gives a look of death*

Me: Because you said you didn’t want to eat any! I didn’t want an entire pan of brownies to myself!

Mr. HS: I can’t believe you gave them to your brother. You never make me anything.

Me: You’re an old man. You must forget.


Mr. HS: Jess… do you think you could make those red velvet brownies for me on Saturday?

Me: Really? Are you craving them? Did you like them? *is annoying*

Mr. HS: Yes. They were amazing. That is my favorite baked good. They were so… dense.

Me: Sure, I’ll make them! *desperately craves positive reassurance since she is the first born*

Mr. HS: Great. Because I’m not holding back Saturday. I’m working out so hard this week. I’m doing legs Saturday. I’m going to town on those brownies. And I’m gonna eat a lot of roast beef at the gun bash buffet (don’t ask). And then I’m just gonna kill those brownies. No holding back. Tons of Diet Coke. I’m gonna eat soooo much. I’m probably going to eat the whole pan. I don’t even care. I’m going to eat so much protein, and then that entire pan of brownies. Yep. I can’t wait. You pickin’ up what I’m throwin’ down?

Me: Uhhh… sure. You’re so weird.


Me: I made the brownies!

Mr. HS: YES! I can’t wait. Let me eat these two stuffed peppers, two chicken breasts and bowl of mashed potatoes for lunch, then I’m gonna kill those brownies.

[30 minutes later]

Mr. HS: Oh my gosh. These are the best brownies ever. They are so good. Just the way I like them. Where is my Diet Coke? *eats the first row of brownies*

Me: Can I wrap them up now?

Mr. HS: Oh yeah. I’m done.

Me: Just for now, right? I’ll leave them here on the counter so you can eat them later.

Mr. HS: No. I’m done.

Me: Done? Like, you’re done eating these brownies today?

Mr. HS: Yeah. No more. No more this weekend.

Me: WHAT? What happened to “oh, I’m such a manly man, I’m gonna kill these brownies, blah, blah, blah.” You’re DONE? Why did I made an ENTIRE pan of brownies for you to eat about four of them? What am I supposed to do with all of these brownies?

Mr. HS: I don’t know. But I’m full. I’m gonna finish my Diet Coke, put on a shirt without sleeves and take a nap while watching NASCAR.

So this is what I’ve been doing since yesterday afternoon.

Because quarter inch slices don’t have any calories.