The highlight and lowlight of my week was when I went to Krispy Kreme on some earlier day this week. Here I am all happy and whatnot that I’m getting to eat a doughnut or two for breakfast instead of the usual uber healthy stuff (I need a break every now and then, okay?) So I pull up to the window, chipper as ever, “Good morning, may I have one regular glazed doughnut and one chocolate glazed doughnut please?” Response: “I’m sorry ma’am, but we are out of chocolate glazed doughnuts and regular glazed doughnuts at the moment, I apologize for the inconvenience.”
(thinking)
HOLD.THE.FUCK.UP.
You’re out of doughnuts? You are Krispy Kreme, dagnabit. Your business is doughnuts. You don’t just run out. You get your asses in the kitchen and make some more. Now.
Okay, so after a pause that was required in order for me not to say everything I was thinking, I said, “Okay, thank you.” I’d be lying if I said my voice didn’t crack. I was legit about to shed a tear, over fried dough. Yes, it is that serious.
Meh, the feeling passed and I got Chick-fil-A instead. Apparently, the universe was not feeling me stuffing my face with doughnuts, but a chicken biscuit was fair game.
In other news: I still don’t know what I wanna be for Halloween.
These are the absolute best thing in the world…and they are only 100 calories. I may or may not have 6 boxes in the pantry.
(Source: somecallmepans)
Faye Dunaway, Manhattan, 1969
Photographer: Jerry Schatzberg
(Source: maliciousglamour, via prepaganda)
