over the past weeks of working at a local cupcake bakery, i’ve self-appointed myself as the honorary “angel of diabetes” of boston. i close most nights there, which means many sad, little cupcakes that don’t have a home.
needless to say, when i can’t pawn them off to the rogue gentleman or homeless people or my roommates, they make their home in….my stomach.
also needless to say*, “breakfast” usually consists of…a cupcake. and lunch….also can include a cupcake. and a free drink from a local business that i bartered with….cupcakes.
i’ve joked with my co-workers at my other job (50 hour work weeks between two jobs also doesn’t help with my all-cupcake diet) that it is only a matter of time before i get “cupcake scurvy”. i realized i should probably meet a vegetable or two when i realized the only fruit i had eaten that week was a raspberry atop my favorite cupcake, the lemon raspberry.
so if you see a uber-smiley red head bumbling around cambridge , looking dazed and running after her shadow, just give me an orange and leave me be . that’s just me in a diabetic shock and sick with cupcake scurvy.
nothing out of the ordinary.
*my grammatical skills have also been temporarily impaired.