Lofthouse Cookies are evil. Evil. Evil. Evil. I hate them. I really do. I don't think I've ever bought a package of them in my life- until the other night. I let the kids choose one treat to share at the store and in a moment of pure insanity, found myself lowering a package of those cancer pills down into my cart. Ohhhh, they look delicious enough, I grant you- all thick and soft and what-not, slathered an inch thick in icing and sprinkles. Sugar Cookies!! Yay!! WRONG! These are not your mom's sugar cookies. No ingredients in my mother's pantry could produce a cookie so soft it's out of this world- after sitting for two weeks on the store shelf. Know why it's out of this world? Because it's from Hell. You put a package of those on your counter and see how long you can resist. I made it one day. And I hate them! All that thickness and softness calls out to you and pretends it's your homey, American friend. And in a moment of munchies, you take one little bite. Just one. mmmm...it's so soft. mmm the icing....it isn't even that sweet....mmmmm....I think I'll have just one more little bite....and another, and another, and.....woops! Ate the whole thing! And suddenly you think you love them! And they're the greatest thing since sliced bread! And who in the world created such a heavenly culinary masterpiece?!
I'll tell you. The Devil. He made them. They are the Devil. Evil. Evil. Evil. Give them 5 minutes in your system and I guarantee you'll have poison oozing out your finger tips.
I whined and ranted about them to Creighton. He looked at me. Said nothing. Calmly walked over to the counter, picked up the package of cookies and tossed them in the trash can.
Go figure.
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