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Monday, September 24, 2012

Manic Mondays: Tales of a Psycho Ex Girlfriend--- Revenge can be so, so sweet (like double fudge brownies)

Has a girl ever baked you brownies as an apology for being a psychotic bitch?

Hasn't your mother ever told you not to accept goodies from crazy girls you've dated? If you read my blog, you know that one of my favorite things to do for the men in my life is to bake variety of desserts, pastries and baked goods. I'm fairly certain no man will ever accept my baked goods again after reading this story. Oh well. Less work for me. 

Anyways, today's story was inspired by a conversation I had with someone today. I was trying to woo him into adding me onto his Amazon Prime account in exchange for kisses and cookies, which is a really good deal, clearly. The point is, this reminded me of a dude I dated in college, sometime after College Ex but before Second College Ex.

When I got to college, I knew not how to bake anything at all. However, the girl across the hall (who later became my roommate, best friend and sorority sister) graciously started teaching me little by little how to bake things all by my very self. This started with the basics, like brownies and cookies, and ended with THE PECAN PIE that won the heart of College Ex and led us into a fabulous, baked good filled, 3 year relationship. I will be forever thankful for her lessons, as they later allowed me to be the psychotic ex girlfriend from hell to one very deserving gentleman.

Anyways, so I was dating this guy name Matt. Not crazy Matt from high school, but this guy was a rich kid from Bethesda with a nice, fast sports car and an okay job that let him take out out for sushi 2-3 nights a week. Our little relationship ran its course after a few months and he dumped me one night that we were suppose to go out for margaritas in Silver Spring where my sorority sister's new boyfriend was bartending (HELL TO THE YEAH FREE TEQUILA). I don't even really remember being upset about it, but really, I was just irritated that I got dumped before I could dump him.

I went completely ape shit on him for a.) dumping me, b.) ruining margarita night and c.) once again making me single while College Ex ran around with a freshman with mad kankles. This tantrum was a full out psychotic episode over the phone, with every psycho actions in the book, from the psycho call to the threat of telling his mother on him. Not mature. I'm aware. Don't judge me.

During our relationship, I made him these amazing double fudge, caramel brownies that were super rich but so delicious. Matt was superrrrrrrrr talllllllllll and superrrrrrrrr slender so he could eat the entire tray of brownies without any regrets at all.

So, the next day after our break up, I decided to make Matt some make-up brownies. I was still stewing in my rage over what went down the night before, and now my mood was complete with a wicked tequila hang over, so I was super ready to make some deeeeeeeeeeeelllllliiiiccciiious brownies.

I'm sure we can all see where this is going, but yes, I hiked on down to CVS and bought all the ingredients I needs--- the typical: eggs, milk, oil, cocoa powder, laxatives...you know, the usual brownie ingredients.

Ahem. Two boxes of laxatives.

I put them right in the batter, baked them up really good. Put them on a lovely platter I stole from the University Cafeteria and tied them up with a nice, little bow on top. I drove over, rang his doorbell. He cautiously answered, and I stood there, beaming and holding out the plate of his favorite brownies.

"Just wanted to drop these off and say sorry for how I acted. I hope we can be friends forever!", I pulled out all of the cheese I had left in my frickin' body. I turned right on my heels and left him with brownies in hand.

Approximately 4 hours later, Matt was blowing up my phone with calls and texts, ranging from angry to furious to psychotic threats to harm me and the devil that lives inside of me. I, of course, didn't answer these messages and threw back another Jager shot at the Malt Shop with the very sexy bartender.

A couple years later, I ran into Matt at a bar, far after I had graduated college and was just back in DC visiting. He was SHOCKINGLY cordial to me, and claimed--despite the gastrointestinal distress I put him into for 24 hours-- they were still the best damn brownies he ever tasted.

Who's wants a sample of my "best damn brownies" next?

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