A few days ago, some of you may have seen on Facebook that I cut my hand at work with a serrated knife.
Actually, I cut the FATTIEST PART of my hand which proved not only completely inconvenient but also quite painful.
Lest you forgot, I am a total crybaby. I cry about everything. It’s kind of stupid.
I’ll cry during commercials featuring old people getting touching greeting cards from their grandchildren and smiling because when certain old people smile, it makes me happy-cry.
I’ll cry when I see a kid do something undeniably adorable and so uncharacteristically childlike that you have to wonder if they’re a cute kid robot programmed to not drool, smell like old socks or have tantrums.
Tears will legitimately threaten when I get a papercut in the right place.
And man, have I tried and tried to toughen up. Bitches don’t cry from papercuts!! I’ll tell myself. But unfortunately, with the threatening wave of sobs comes a stammering voice, a flushed tomato face and a pale, quavering complexion that surely gives off the message loud and clear: I am about to cry, so let’s pretend this isn’t happening and don’t you dare acknowledge anything that’s wrong as that’s the flashing green light my brain needs to let this dam break open.
Anyway, I cut myself at work while slicing bread. It’s so dumb since I cut bread far more dangerously any other time, but this time, we were slower so I was savoring each second, taking my dandy time. And then slice! Palm down, and uh, palm out. At least a chunk anyway.
You can imagine my immediate fear when I glanced at my hand and happened to glimpse the final seconds before there was even a drop of blood. And when that red came, it came. And that’s when I suspect I felt threatened and upset, and the pain registered, and the tears began knocking on my eyeball’s doors, demanding their exit.
Of course, I was able to (thankfully) slip by unnoticed for a good minute to compose myself and try to think of happy things like puppies and cute old people… and of course, I started imagining that terrible Sarah McLaughlin commercial for the SPCA and old people getting upset when they realize their grandchildren aren’t perfect adorable robots and I imagined them crying and then I wanted to cry and WHY AM I THINKING OF OLD PEOPLE WHEN I AM BLEEDING TO DEATH IN A KITCHEN SINK?!
Either way, I managed to get through the entire slice ‘n dice sitch without a single tear and for that, I was immensely proud. So proud, until I got home and my mom wanted to take me to the ER for stitches, and then I cried… only because the last time I was in the ER, I took a nosedive off the exam table at the gyno’s office (I’ll tell you that story tomorrow) and frankly, I didn’t have fond memories except for going to Sizzler afterwards and eating endless soft serve with sprinkles.
But the whole getting stitches in my eyelid thing sucked then, and getting my palm sewed up would suck now and basically my mom made no indication that there’d be a Sizzler reward so basically I was suffering for nothing.
Little did I know that the stitches would be the least of my worries at the ER that day. Who would have thought things could go from bloody and bad to way worse?
Because the second they called my name to come on back, they stopped me–I assumed to whisper a cool story in my ear or tell me a funny joke, but instead, those ER people wanted to punish me further–rub salt in my metaphorical wound, if you will–and made me… it hurts to say it… made me step on the scale.
I hadn’t seen one in months, since my dad took it to school. And honestly, I had seen a lot of In N Out animal-style fries. And ice cream cones. And duh, I work in a cheese shop. It’s practically a requirement to stuff my face with gourmet cheeses all day long. Work eating = no calories, right?
Because the single worst thing about this day wasn’t the fact that I literally sliced a chunk out of my palm with a bread-stained serrated knife, or threatened to bawl like a four-year old at my workplace while I gushed my insides into a kitchen sink, nor was it the realization that my thinking of old people so frequently is moderately disturbing, nor was it coming to the ER where people like, die. It was stepping on that effing scale that screamed “ANIMAL FRIES, BITCH!!!” and flashed some awful number at me.
It was then I asked the doctor to please remove any unneeded bones and/or organs from my body so I could promptly lose the excess baggage. Instead, he looked at me funny like I’d lost copious amounts of blood, stabbed a needle in my wound and wrapped me up like a tiny little package, sending me and my fat-ass on our way to In N Out, where Jessie decided he was hungry for animal fries and I had no resistance to their smothered, saucy beauty.
You can imagine the trauma I survived in a single day could be enough to break someone, but I overcame the hardships and walked over three miles with Dorothy on Sunday, feeling rejuvenated and ready to take on bikini season, despite it being almost halfway through summer already (so what if I spent the first half of summer eating my way out of a bikini?)
I decided the world, a serrated bread knife, tears, happy elderly and the scale couldn’t break me. I was still a kickass girl with another awesome story to tell, and with the ability to make killer treats like this Peanut Butter Crunch Bugle Mix which pretty much cures all aches and pains, like the medicine of the Candy Gods (which I am positive exist–hello, how else were Almond Joys created?!)
This bugle mix is ridiculous in that it has four different kinds of candy in it, plus salty Bugles chips and a white chocolate and peanut butter coating. It’s sweet, salty, crunchy and perfect; a total texture and flavor explosion, people. You must try it!
And if you’re wondering if this is kinda like that highly addictive crack I made awhile back? It is… if you added four bags of candy to that crack and amplified it by 100. In other words, perfect bikini food 🙂
2 small bags (about 8 cups) Bugles chips
1/2 pkg white chocolate almond bark
1 heaping Tbsp smooth peanut butter
2 cups peanut M&M’s
2 cups Reese’s Pieces
About 8-10 Reese’s PB Cups, roughly chopped
About 6-8 Butterfinger candy bars, roughly chopped
1. First, line a flat workspace (such as a counter) with two layers of wax paper. Then, in a medium bowl, zap the white chocolate for a minute. Stir, then zap for another 30 seconds, stirring until smooth. Stir in the peanut butter to combine.
2. Pour the chips into the white chocolate/pb mixture and gently toss to coat, thoroughly coating all of the Bugles.
3. Once coated, spread the Bugles out onto the wax-paper lined workspace in an even layer. Immediately sprinkle the still-wet chips with the peanut M&M’s, Reese’s Pieces, chopped PB cups and the chopped Butterfingers as evenly as possible.
4. Allow the mixture to set and harden, about 30 minutes, before breaking into smaller pieces and storing in an airtight bag. This is best kept airtight for up to 3 days.
When my family saw the bags of Bugles in the pantry, they immediately became excited for the Churro mix I made a couple weeks ago.. until I informed them of this new concoction. There is definitely a time and place for the Churro mix (still my personal fave), but this is a different kind of awesome–and the PB lovers in my family inhaled it like crazy. I know you’ll love it!