Pi(E) Day Sestina Part 2

ered, just like I would be if I ever found myself in Gossip Girl’s contrived version of New York City’s upper east side on a (b)lust ery day and I saw prettily-pressed preppy clothes clinging to the perfect pie l (skin in Spanish. Duh. Who doesn’t (k)now that?) of Chuck Bass, the hottest fictional character ever to grace a fashion-forward, self-destructive-lifestyle- glamorizing teenage soap opera. Granted, frost bite has a better personality than Chuck Bass, but ahh… sigh…he still drives me loca. There. That digression has kept me from going completely loca but don’t think my unrequited lust for Chuck Bass has in any way diminished my unrequited lust for a pseudo-intellectual Frost/ Nixon movie discussion party. Ha! I jest. Of course I mean for a frosted sugar cookie. So let’s ditch this piece of pie, go searching for a sugar cookie, and end this Chuck Palahniuk-esque multiple personality disorder now. Don’t worry. This won’t take long. I’ve got an (echo)loca(tion) ability for sugar cookies like bats have for bugs. “What about the pie?” you ask, “We can’t just waste it because of your irrational lust(y) cravings.” I know you’re right so I strike a compromise. While you’re lacing up your Chuck Taylors, I patiently allow the waitress to box up the pie as a possible post-frosted sugar cookie supplement, even though if we had abandoned the pie, I’d be bathed in beautiful frosted sugar cookie-ness by now.