I’m in the baking ingredients aisle looking for unbleached quinoa flour when I see it: a box of Funfetti cake mix. Ugh, what a sugar bomb. I’m already moving on when I swear the Pillsbury Doughboy makes eye contact with me as if it’s the Mona Lisa, saying, Leave without me: I fucking dare you.
So you know what? I’m throwing the box in the cart. Screw the sugar-free quinoa flour energy bars I was going to make, because fuck it, I’m making a Funfetti cake.
I’m also throwing in a tub of Funfetti frosting, the one with the sprinkles in the lid. And fuck it one more time, because I’m getting another frosting tub to eat with my index finger while scrolling through my high school bully’s before-and-after-Herbalife belly photos.
Is it my birthday? No.
Is it anyone’s birthday? Also no.
Is it any special occasion at all? Hell no.