The Pizookie Party: The Untold Story

I have some important intel on the Pizookie Party story.  While we were making the Pizookies, I noticed something very disturbing that I, in all my years (and there’ve been many) of eating dealing with cookie dough, had never noticed on the packaging before.

Stay with me here.

Exhibit A:

Um, say what? Who doesn’t eat unbaked cookie dough?  Communists. That’s who!

Exhibit B:

There it is again! That blasphemous statement!

Exhibit C:

Honestly! Of all the nerve!

Exhibit D:

It’s a coup, I’m telling you!

Now, when they make a request to “please” not eat the cookie dough, I can sort of, kind of handle that. But, when cookie dough manufacturers start barking out orders as if I’m a grunt and they are the drill sergeants, I have draw a line in the sand because they’ve  just crossed my boundaries. I mean, I’m an American citizen, for Pete’s sake! I have certain inalienable rights to life, liberty, and the active pursuit of cookie dough. This is still a democracy, is it not?

And in this economy, too? You’d think producers would be more worried about having their product consumed and less worried about ordering the consumer as to how to consume it.

When I command the Diva to do something, I am responsible, as a parent, for enforcing my order.  How is Pillsbury going to enforce this? Are the cookie dough police going to come get me and take me to cookie dough jail, where that little fat man will giggle at me until he’s driven me to commit a real crime?

Who’s my alderman? I’m gonna need some representation. Or maybe I should just go ahead and call Rocko, Rocko Bama. Nothing he’s working on could possibly eclipse the severity of this matter.

With elevated blood pressure,


2 thoughts on “The Pizookie Party: The Untold Story

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