It was a dream date. His name was Chet and he was beautiful and blonde with piercing green eyes.
There were alcoholic bevvies and little kisses. It was sublime; but the best part?
The ice cream.
We drive up and see a family of fatties walking toward our destination.
"Hmm, I think we might be waiting awhile," he said.
"Perhaps."
We got out of the car and sure enough, the family Fat filed into Moo's, one of San Diego's premiere ice cream parlors.
There was a bit of a wait, but I saw it through the glass-it was green, like Chet's eyes, only maybe, with more blue in it and I told the lady behind the counter I wanted it in the smallest sundae they make.
She took the green ice cream and blended chocolate chips into it and then it was placed in a round tiny carton and covered with hot fudge and whipped cream-and then there were nuts. And it nearly dripped over the edge of the carton.
Chet got a brownie bliss, which, while okay-was NOT, no NOT what I had.
Sublime. The silky whipped cream blending with the crunch of the nuts and the warm hot fudge and the mint and the chocolate all blending together felt like a wonderful dream. And then he kissed me.
It was all I could do not to knock over the table and have my way with him that very instant.
But believe me, reader mine, I SHALL!
I remain,
Hilda Stinson
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Friday, March 25, 2011
Suzie Q's [TM]
"I like the way you walk, I like the way you talk, Suzie Q, bomp bada ba domp!" The famous song goes! (Written by Dale Hawkins, performed by the author and more famously (I would imagine), Credence Clearwater Revival.)
And I am CRAVING a Hostess Suzie Q [TM] and have been ALL DAY!
Here's the fantasy-'cos I know why you're here!
I step out of a tub which has sanitized me completely up three glass steps and then down three glass steps into a large glass tub filled with Suzie Q's[TM].
My toes squish in the cake and delicately, I lower myself down onto the hundreds of Hostess Suzy Q's[TM]. They feel springy and soft and support my weight (remember, folks, Hilda is HEAVY!) beautifully. A large platter appears and it is filled with the cakes. I take them one by one and cover myself in Suzie Q's{TM]. The chocolate sticks to my hands and I lick my fingers as I place the Suzie Q's {TM} on my body, stopping occasionally to take a bite.
My mouth fills with the taste of tender chocolate cake and creamy filling. Feeling decadent, I lick around the edges of the cake, at the filling-and then, unable to control myself, I open the Suzie Q{TM} and smash the filling right up to my mouth, I am sucking the cake dry of its filling and then, pushing the rest of it into my mouth. I chew and swallow. A cup of green tea (decaf!!!!) appears and I sip at the tea, cleansing my palate and then, I take another cake, lick around the edges and then biting into the cake, still filled with most of the cream. The mixture creating the perfect taste in my mouth-the ratio of chocolate cake to cream filling is divine.
Foodgasm! And then, sleep, takes me and I am warm and happy in my tub of Suzie Q's{TM}!
I remain,
Hilda Stinson
(and yes I did TM it to death, I don't need Hostess suing me!)
And I am CRAVING a Hostess Suzie Q [TM] and have been ALL DAY!
Here's the fantasy-'cos I know why you're here!
I step out of a tub which has sanitized me completely up three glass steps and then down three glass steps into a large glass tub filled with Suzie Q's[TM].
My toes squish in the cake and delicately, I lower myself down onto the hundreds of Hostess Suzy Q's[TM]. They feel springy and soft and support my weight (remember, folks, Hilda is HEAVY!) beautifully. A large platter appears and it is filled with the cakes. I take them one by one and cover myself in Suzie Q's{TM]. The chocolate sticks to my hands and I lick my fingers as I place the Suzie Q's {TM} on my body, stopping occasionally to take a bite.
My mouth fills with the taste of tender chocolate cake and creamy filling. Feeling decadent, I lick around the edges of the cake, at the filling-and then, unable to control myself, I open the Suzie Q{TM} and smash the filling right up to my mouth, I am sucking the cake dry of its filling and then, pushing the rest of it into my mouth. I chew and swallow. A cup of green tea (decaf!!!!) appears and I sip at the tea, cleansing my palate and then, I take another cake, lick around the edges and then biting into the cake, still filled with most of the cream. The mixture creating the perfect taste in my mouth-the ratio of chocolate cake to cream filling is divine.
Foodgasm! And then, sleep, takes me and I am warm and happy in my tub of Suzie Q's{TM}!
I remain,
Hilda Stinson
(and yes I did TM it to death, I don't need Hostess suing me!)
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Bacon
It begins with the smell. It drifts gently into the air, the madness, the sweet salty aroma of bacon.
"Milady," Mal stood in front of me, plate in hand. He was naked save a cotton lace apron-and I was torn, but I took the plate, sat up and began chewing on the bacon. "This 21st century food is something else. Shiny," he took a piece of bacon and popped it in his mouth.
"Is there more?"
"More? But of course, there's always more!" He laughed and went back to the kitchen, his bare bottom a veritable melody of exquisite flesh.
I sat up and surveyed the surroundings. It was a large bright room with red fabric walls and white drapes made of the finest silk. The sun streamed in- a spotlight spread on the carpet where a cat lay. He awoke, stretched and began licking his front paws.
"Hey! Mal!"
He came in running, "What is it?"
"What is this?"
"This is Cattius. He used to belong to an evil overlord, but he's mine now."
"I didn't know you had a cat."
"There's a lot you don't know about me," he said, sitting on the bed, pulling me on top of him.
"I like the apron."
"Funny, real funny," he said. "It's YOUR apron."
"Oh yeah." I twirled a lock of hair around my finger. "I forgot. You know, it looks very nice on you."
"Ha, ha." He flipped it up, revealing more than one could ever want, bacon-wise. "Have some," he said.
I bent to my task, both of us on our knees, his hands massaging my back and then, when he could bear it no more, he threw me back on the bed. He covered me. Sublimely.
And then? We had more a bacon.
I remain, happily porcine,
Hilda Stinson
"Milady," Mal stood in front of me, plate in hand. He was naked save a cotton lace apron-and I was torn, but I took the plate, sat up and began chewing on the bacon. "This 21st century food is something else. Shiny," he took a piece of bacon and popped it in his mouth.
"Is there more?"
"More? But of course, there's always more!" He laughed and went back to the kitchen, his bare bottom a veritable melody of exquisite flesh.
I sat up and surveyed the surroundings. It was a large bright room with red fabric walls and white drapes made of the finest silk. The sun streamed in- a spotlight spread on the carpet where a cat lay. He awoke, stretched and began licking his front paws.
"Hey! Mal!"
He came in running, "What is it?"
"What is this?"
"This is Cattius. He used to belong to an evil overlord, but he's mine now."
"I didn't know you had a cat."
"There's a lot you don't know about me," he said, sitting on the bed, pulling me on top of him.
"I like the apron."
"Funny, real funny," he said. "It's YOUR apron."
"Oh yeah." I twirled a lock of hair around my finger. "I forgot. You know, it looks very nice on you."
"Ha, ha." He flipped it up, revealing more than one could ever want, bacon-wise. "Have some," he said.
I bent to my task, both of us on our knees, his hands massaging my back and then, when he could bear it no more, he threw me back on the bed. He covered me. Sublimely.
And then? We had more a bacon.
I remain, happily porcine,
Hilda Stinson
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Nearing Perfection
Courtesy of: is it the Tonalin CLA? It's supposed to kick in after you've been taking it for three months. And I think it's been that long. OR is the the Skecher's (I KNOW there SHOULD be T in the middle of that word, but they don't spell it that way, go figure! A bunch of illiterates done good, ah reckon!) Shape Ups (TM)? What I mean by that is you should SEE the bod. I'm cut like never before and the fat is SHRINKING. And, you know, I have to feel good about that.
"I feel good about that," Mal said, kissing me atop my bushy blonde head.
"You love me no matter WHAT," I told him.
"True," he said. And vanished.
And that, was that.
I remain,
Hilda Stinson
"I feel good about that," Mal said, kissing me atop my bushy blonde head.
"You love me no matter WHAT," I told him.
"True," he said. And vanished.
And that, was that.
I remain,
Hilda Stinson
Monday, March 14, 2011
Like a Dog Returns
to its vomit, I went back to Subway. Yes, I did. But, this was a different location. I THOUGHT it might make a difference. And, the truth is, I really like the veggie sandwiches. OR WOULD if they didn't soak their lettuce in bleach!
A friend suggested that I have spinach instead of lettuce, but I dunno. E coli, anyone? I mean, I'm just being PARANOID. And, of course, it wouldn't be the same. Maybe if I brought my OWN lettuce. Yeah. Except who wants to do that?
In other news, I have been on a wee bit of a shoppy.
It began last weekend in VIctoria's secret. I had a coupon for a free panty and another coupon for ten dollars off a bra. Too bad they don't carry my cup size. Yesterday, I finally took it upon myself to hand wash the panty and I hung it up in the bathroom, on top of some shampoo and conditioner containers. There it sits, glaring at me lewdly, almost dry.
But this weekend, I actually bought some THINGS. Sunglasses, two pairs. Because I couldn't decide and because it's always good to have a spare. And three pairs of earrings. One pair is the kind I've been wanting for YEARS. You see, years ago, when I was in college, the girl next door, Reggie (short for Regina) had lent me a pair of heavy gold earrings. I really liked them and I had been looking for earring like them for a VERY long time. In short, these earrings are my fantasy. Well, not really. They are cheap and light, but I figure when the time is right (I win the lottery, get a real job, land a trophy husband-any of these will do) I will take them to a jeweler and have him/her make me a nice heavy gold pair. Yeah. The other two were very frivolous. Big hoops with a diamond hexagonal ball and some sparkly dangly rings, appropriate for Las Vegas and other special occasions.
I also have some sins to confess: a box of whoopie pies from Ralph's bargain shelf. NEVER again. They were stale. And yet, I ate them anyway. And the worst part was that they didn't get the cream filling right. It was FROSTING. LAWD! Frosting! It's not that hard to make good cream filling. But NO! FROSTING.
There's something else. Another sin. But I can't remember.
And there was a fantasy.
Also, that I can't remember.
Quick, somebody send me some Ginko Biloba!
I remain,
Hilda Stinson
A friend suggested that I have spinach instead of lettuce, but I dunno. E coli, anyone? I mean, I'm just being PARANOID. And, of course, it wouldn't be the same. Maybe if I brought my OWN lettuce. Yeah. Except who wants to do that?
In other news, I have been on a wee bit of a shoppy.
It began last weekend in VIctoria's secret. I had a coupon for a free panty and another coupon for ten dollars off a bra. Too bad they don't carry my cup size. Yesterday, I finally took it upon myself to hand wash the panty and I hung it up in the bathroom, on top of some shampoo and conditioner containers. There it sits, glaring at me lewdly, almost dry.
But this weekend, I actually bought some THINGS. Sunglasses, two pairs. Because I couldn't decide and because it's always good to have a spare. And three pairs of earrings. One pair is the kind I've been wanting for YEARS. You see, years ago, when I was in college, the girl next door, Reggie (short for Regina) had lent me a pair of heavy gold earrings. I really liked them and I had been looking for earring like them for a VERY long time. In short, these earrings are my fantasy. Well, not really. They are cheap and light, but I figure when the time is right (I win the lottery, get a real job, land a trophy husband-any of these will do) I will take them to a jeweler and have him/her make me a nice heavy gold pair. Yeah. The other two were very frivolous. Big hoops with a diamond hexagonal ball and some sparkly dangly rings, appropriate for Las Vegas and other special occasions.
I also have some sins to confess: a box of whoopie pies from Ralph's bargain shelf. NEVER again. They were stale. And yet, I ate them anyway. And the worst part was that they didn't get the cream filling right. It was FROSTING. LAWD! Frosting! It's not that hard to make good cream filling. But NO! FROSTING.
There's something else. Another sin. But I can't remember.
And there was a fantasy.
Also, that I can't remember.
Quick, somebody send me some Ginko Biloba!
I remain,
Hilda Stinson
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Fat Tuesday Deferred
A dream deferred. How about this: While at the supermarket I comPLETELY forgot that it's Fat Tuesday. There were ENTIRE cakes on sale on the day old baked goods rack at Ralph's. Damn. Of course, we can't know if any of those cakes were chocolate. Probably not.
But I do have a confession about this little rack of snack. Last week, I saw the perfect yummy. It was a tiny little chocolate cake with white icing all helter skelter in the plastic bucket it came in. But at the moment, I was having a craving for a SINGLE brownie (I dasn't buy a bucket of brownie!) SO I DIDN"T BUY THE PERFECT YUMMY! The anguish!
So what do I have? Well, there's some carmel cone flavor Skinny Cow in a single serving in the freezer. I had purchased it yesterday and was going to eat it, but realized that I could not afford the 170 calories because everything I had eaten for dinner just ADDED up. Soup, salad, two containers of seaweed chips, almond milk, a shot glass of wine, surprisingly came to 515 calories. So naturally I could not AFFORD the Skinny Cow.
But tonight? I shall eat the Skinny Cow and enjoy it. And wish for chocolate cake. With white icing.
The fantasy? A giant chocolate cake that I belly flop onto and roll around in. And then, I eat as much as I want, a goblet of neopolitan ice cream in my hand so that I can cool my palate with a little ice cream. And then, I cuddle into this giant cake and fall asleep. Sated.
Happy Fat Tuesday!
Hilda Stinson
But I do have a confession about this little rack of snack. Last week, I saw the perfect yummy. It was a tiny little chocolate cake with white icing all helter skelter in the plastic bucket it came in. But at the moment, I was having a craving for a SINGLE brownie (I dasn't buy a bucket of brownie!) SO I DIDN"T BUY THE PERFECT YUMMY! The anguish!
So what do I have? Well, there's some carmel cone flavor Skinny Cow in a single serving in the freezer. I had purchased it yesterday and was going to eat it, but realized that I could not afford the 170 calories because everything I had eaten for dinner just ADDED up. Soup, salad, two containers of seaweed chips, almond milk, a shot glass of wine, surprisingly came to 515 calories. So naturally I could not AFFORD the Skinny Cow.
But tonight? I shall eat the Skinny Cow and enjoy it. And wish for chocolate cake. With white icing.
The fantasy? A giant chocolate cake that I belly flop onto and roll around in. And then, I eat as much as I want, a goblet of neopolitan ice cream in my hand so that I can cool my palate with a little ice cream. And then, I cuddle into this giant cake and fall asleep. Sated.
Happy Fat Tuesday!
Hilda Stinson
Monday, March 7, 2011
BLEACH! It's What's For Dinner!
First, I want to say, there is nothing wrong with bleach.
It IS completely and totally edible.
That's right, in small amounts.
In fact, the Price-Pottengers even have a recipe in Nourishing Traditions where they teach you how to sterilize food-with bleach.
Clorox, to be exact.
However, there is NO excuse for SUBWAY restaurants. I'm sorry. Their sandwiches taste like bleach. Because that is what they are soaking their lettuce in.
The day began with a nap. And then, I rose, began doing my hair, and realized: I was hungry. So I called up this boy who was CRAZY for me (and yet had never even met me) and got him to meet me for lunch at the SandWHICH place. Now THAT place can make some sandwiches. Like you would NOT believe. But, today I was off my games and asked for pickles, which made it too salty. Rule 1: NEVER ask for pickles.
I had made a coffee date for right after the lunch. And I showed up and there he was: all hot blonde blue eyed shortcake. Sweet.
About five eight. As we walked, I caught sight of us in a shop window-and we looked good together. Like people would pay to watch us good.
There are many flavors when it comes to men, and cute little blonde is one of my favorites.
We walked and talked and it was nice. Mellow.
Cut to later on, after I'd malled (I had a coupon for a free panty at Vic's). I went and met him at his house and we went to SUBWAY.
"Is this together?" the sandwich artist asked.
"Yes," we said.
"Hey, can I buy you dinner?" he said, pulling cash out of his wallet.
"Yes, thank you," I said, kissing him.
We went back to his house and I asked for the grand tour.
He thought I said, "Let's fuck."
Well, I didn't.
After we straightened that out, we sat down to eat.
And there it was: bleach.
I'm never eating there AGAIN!
I remain,
Hilda Stinson
It IS completely and totally edible.
That's right, in small amounts.
In fact, the Price-Pottengers even have a recipe in Nourishing Traditions where they teach you how to sterilize food-with bleach.
Clorox, to be exact.
However, there is NO excuse for SUBWAY restaurants. I'm sorry. Their sandwiches taste like bleach. Because that is what they are soaking their lettuce in.
The day began with a nap. And then, I rose, began doing my hair, and realized: I was hungry. So I called up this boy who was CRAZY for me (and yet had never even met me) and got him to meet me for lunch at the SandWHICH place. Now THAT place can make some sandwiches. Like you would NOT believe. But, today I was off my games and asked for pickles, which made it too salty. Rule 1: NEVER ask for pickles.
I had made a coffee date for right after the lunch. And I showed up and there he was: all hot blonde blue eyed shortcake. Sweet.
About five eight. As we walked, I caught sight of us in a shop window-and we looked good together. Like people would pay to watch us good.
There are many flavors when it comes to men, and cute little blonde is one of my favorites.
We walked and talked and it was nice. Mellow.
Cut to later on, after I'd malled (I had a coupon for a free panty at Vic's). I went and met him at his house and we went to SUBWAY.
"Is this together?" the sandwich artist asked.
"Yes," we said.
"Hey, can I buy you dinner?" he said, pulling cash out of his wallet.
"Yes, thank you," I said, kissing him.
We went back to his house and I asked for the grand tour.
He thought I said, "Let's fuck."
Well, I didn't.
After we straightened that out, we sat down to eat.
And there it was: bleach.
I'm never eating there AGAIN!
I remain,
Hilda Stinson
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Thin Mints: A Fantasy
I'm standing in a vestibule and the walls are gold. There is no nozzle, because this is not a shower. This is a place of pure fantasy.
I'm absolutely starkers, freshly bathed, my hair is a perfect mass of blonde curls.
I stand. And wait.
And then, it happens.
Thin mints materialize all over my body. I turn my mouth to the right and instead of soft shoulder, there is a thin mint that I dredge into my mouth. The chocolate is smooth on my bottom lip and as I tumble the cookie into my mouth, it melts slightly and I crunch it in half, taking the other half in my hand as I crunch the rest of the cookie. Crunchy, minty chocolate swirling around in my mouth. I swallow, bent down and pluck a cookie off my knee.
In front of me, there is a a large tub of ice cream. Neopolitan, of course. I trip into it and roll around, and I lie down and relax, scooping up ice cream in my fingers, plucking cookies off my body and making little ice cream sandwiches. Oh the joy!
"Hi," Mal emerges out of the ice cream and kisses me full on the mouth.
"Captain!"
"Yes, it's me!" He flips me onto my stomach and takes a cookie off my left glute and eats the whole thing with gusto.
"Oh Babylove!"
He continues to eat the cookies off the back of my body, running his hands up and down my bottom.
"You really love that, don't you?"
"I do," he says, bestowing a kiss. "It's so so small!"
"Well," I said, "I AM working on it. Heavy weights and all.."
He shushes me with a kiss, turns me over and begins working the other side.
The ice cream was cold on my skin and periodically, Mal would dip his mouth into the ice cream and then he would kiss me, lick me. And then, he pulled me on top of him.
Excruciatingly exciting.
I am,
Hilda Stinson
I'm absolutely starkers, freshly bathed, my hair is a perfect mass of blonde curls.
I stand. And wait.
And then, it happens.
Thin mints materialize all over my body. I turn my mouth to the right and instead of soft shoulder, there is a thin mint that I dredge into my mouth. The chocolate is smooth on my bottom lip and as I tumble the cookie into my mouth, it melts slightly and I crunch it in half, taking the other half in my hand as I crunch the rest of the cookie. Crunchy, minty chocolate swirling around in my mouth. I swallow, bent down and pluck a cookie off my knee.
In front of me, there is a a large tub of ice cream. Neopolitan, of course. I trip into it and roll around, and I lie down and relax, scooping up ice cream in my fingers, plucking cookies off my body and making little ice cream sandwiches. Oh the joy!
"Hi," Mal emerges out of the ice cream and kisses me full on the mouth.
"Captain!"
"Yes, it's me!" He flips me onto my stomach and takes a cookie off my left glute and eats the whole thing with gusto.
"Oh Babylove!"
He continues to eat the cookies off the back of my body, running his hands up and down my bottom.
"You really love that, don't you?"
"I do," he says, bestowing a kiss. "It's so so small!"
"Well," I said, "I AM working on it. Heavy weights and all.."
He shushes me with a kiss, turns me over and begins working the other side.
The ice cream was cold on my skin and periodically, Mal would dip his mouth into the ice cream and then he would kiss me, lick me. And then, he pulled me on top of him.
Excruciatingly exciting.
I am,
Hilda Stinson
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