Perforation Problems

When I was a baby, my mom used to hand me slices of Kraft American cheese to snack on in my high chair. Maybe that was the start of my love affair with cheese, a foundational piece (along with chicken nuggets) of my diet well through my twenties. Okay, let's not lie. Cheese is still a foundational piece of my diet, despite my newly-found acceptance of vegetables. I love cheese. Cheese fries, cheese dogs, Cheez-its, quesadillas, queso, nachos, cheese pizza, cheddar goldfish crackers, grilled cheese, mac n' cheese. Now that I'm slightly fancier, maybe I've upgraded a bit to cheese plates, camembert & apple sandwiches, four cheese ravioli, sausage and ricotta flatbread, etc, etc, but really if it's got cheese on it, I'll probably like it. There's no denying that cheese makes just about anything better. That doesn't mean all cheeses are equal—there can be bad cheese. Once my brother and I stopped at a gas station on the way to the lake because we ree...

Someday in an imaginary world where sugar counts as a whole grain and buttercream frosting is a vegetable, and where there are no recriminations, no consequences, no reasons to feel guilty that you're shoving cookie after cookie into your face, I will join the Cheryl's Buttercream Cookie of the Month Club. And every month, delightful concoctions will appear at my door, marking the passage of time with their seasonal sprinkles and appropriate cutout shapes, and there shall be cookies, all the time, everywhere. Never again will I say, "I wish I had a cookie." It will only be, "I shall go get a cookie, because I have many." Cookies will abound and be plentiful, and everyone will be happy. Ah, such dreams for mortal men! The glory.