When I was in New York a couple weeks ago, I was riding the subway one day when I noticed an elderly man sitting next to me staring at me and my legs.

For those of you who have never seen my legs, they’re covered in tattoos – specifically dessert tattoos. Many people are intimidated by my cupcake tattoo. *sarcasm

I just smiled at him politely and continued to ride the train in my own silence when I noticed him mumbling to the girl next to him about my tattoos. I could clearly hear him talk about them, but I couldn’t hear what he was saying, so I just smiled again and said, “you like my tattoos?” thinking he’d respond with a polite ‘yes’ and we’d go about our days like normal human beings.

Nope.

“Tattoos are a sign of the devil. They’re evil. You are severely cursed, young lady,” he said. “You’ll be damned to hell because of all of those trashy tattoos. You’re damned,” he continued. I just stared at him wide-eyed with an are you serious expression on my bemused face. I’ve had my fair share of old farts comment on my tattoos, usually with negative things to say, and I always quip back with something snarky back at them. (One time, an old man told me “why would you do that to your body?” loudly in public, so I asked him if he wanted to talk about the brown spots and wrinkles all over his. He shut up).

But to tell me I’m damned to hell? Is this subway ride really taking me to Herald Square, or are we really headed for the fiery gates?

Crypt Keeper continued to berate me publicly about my tattoos, continually reminding me how ‘damned’ I was and how I was going to hell. The only thing that will save me, he said, was “lots of prayer” and even then, “I don’t know it’ll work.”

Sweeeeeeeeet.

After about five minutes (not even kidding) of him berating me about my evil desserts-themed tattoos to the woman next to me and to my face, I finally had it. I had a couple more stops and I was not going to be berated by an elderly man who probably shits himself on the reg. So I smiled a sinister smile and after he told me for the millionth time that I was doomed to hell, I looked him dead in the eyes and said, “oh I know. Because you know what? I am the Devil.” Then I grinned a big, scary toothy grin and he looked at me like he’d seen a ghost.

Or the Devil. Or a spunky 24-year old on the train who was no longer gonna take his crap. Same difference.

And lo and behold, my bold remark shut him up. In fact, he didn’t say a peep after that to me or the poor train passenger next to him. He took his belongings and got off on the next stop wordlessly.

And just like that, I convinced a senile old man that I was the Devil. It was awesome.

So the next time you see someone with tattoos you don’t like, for the love of Pete, keep it to yourself. Because not only is it effing rude to tell someone your invalid and unwanted opinion about their body, most likely they won’t care. Or maybe you’ll ruin their day (spoiler: he did not ruin mine). Or maybe they’ll flip out and call you names (which they should). Or maybe they’ll go back to the tattoo shop and try to return their tattoo because you can totally do that. Duh. 

Okay, enough about that old man. Now we must converse about these Peanut Brittle Bars. 

These bars are oh so good and taste pretty darn similar to peanut brittle. They’re made with toffee bits and dry roasted peanuts for that brittle effect, sitting atop a buttery peanut butter bar base. They’re chewy, crunchy, buttery, sweet and salty, and they’re utterly delicious. I prefer mine with a tall glass of milk, but no matter how you eat ’em, you must make them!

*adapted from this old recipe from the archives

You guys have to give these a try! They’re for true peanut butter lovers – from the peanut buttery, chewy bar cookie crust to the gooey peanut buttery and vanilla-scented middle to the crunchy, crisp, buttery toffee and sweet & salty peanuts on top. Amazing!

Have a sweet day!

xo, Hayley