So I have discovered my new obsession. Toast.
The traditional photo of a traditional piece of toast. But it is probably the most delightful looking piece of carbohydrates bunched together that I have ever seen in my entire life.
What's better than sex? Toast, bitch. Toast served to you for breakfast in bed after sex. With flowers and unsmudged orange cups and napkins that look like quesadillas.
This looks like grilled cheese.
Uh oh. This person who has inserted this piece of bread into the toaster and did not turn the dial to a lighter flakiness has committed a SIN.
Mediocre effort at creating a culinary work of art, but I'd still eat it.
This kid apparently gets the idea. I see a greatness in her bright future.
French toast with some stuff on it. I like the plate. Or rather, it looks like a picture frame. Cheap fuckers.
For some reason, when the bread goes down it looks like they're going down into hell and that they are going to die. But it's toast so it comes back to life and brings us to food heaven when we bite down into their crusty sexiness.
If I see any religious figure or some kind of Michael Bolton reference, I might as well jump into a giant toaster and go to hell because I ain't going to become tasty toast like bread can be.
Brilliant artist. Brilliant.
Love at first sight. I swear that I am going to order one of these purses whenever my mom gets off the goddamn phone in the near century so I can have access to her Visa Card.
The piece de resistance. This is my fucking dream. My fucking dream toaster. My fucking dream item to possess. Fuck wedding rings from Duff McKagan, I want a fucking sandwich presser, AKA Super Toaster.
Christina N. @ 10:12 PM
