Normally bloggers who make a point to mention products are doing it to endorse them. There's even an added tool you can stick on your site called Adsense, where you sell the hell out of something, like they do on The Home Shopping Network and they pay you a measly pittance. This isn't one of those blogs. I already got swindled into doing that for a certain weight loss clinic once and I just can't be treated worse than a prostitute anymore. (I pose for their ad pictures and do their interviews and my only financial benefit is the occasional free months supply of fat burner that the nurse in charge has to hastily cram in my purse so she won't get fired. Do crack whores have to pay for their drugs?)
Instead, I want to warn everyone, especially mothers,(who are most likely the bakers of the household), to never buy or consume Duncan Hines moist and delicious dark chocolate fudge brownies, (in particular, the Halloween boxes with the orange inedible plastic like confetti), no matter how much you love chocolate or what time of the month it is.
Last Sunday I made some of these up for my son's flag football party, (The Chargers are the West Pasco I9 champions for the third year in a row), with less than sub par results. Granted, I baked them in a football shaped cake pan instead of the 9x9 glass pan you're suppose to use, but still. They took twice as long to bake and had to be taken out before the middle was fully cooked as the edges were completely burnt. Upon doing this, I singed my hand, (I will probably be scarred for life), and the lump of shit still never fully solidified even after cooling. I gave it an hour in the refrigerator, more than enough time for any brownie of real substance, and the whole thing fell apart when I attempted to remove it from the mold. Then, I tried to salvage the remains by carefully cutting them into bite size squares and the damn dessert breaks into pieces like clumps of manure in my hands.
Luckily I had a backup plan, cupcakes, already in place but it should have never come to that. There it was, my grand vision of spreading fun and inspiring creativity lying destroyed and dormant in a cheap Tupperware container; a mere shadow of what it could have been.
On a positive note, they still smelled delicious and looked yummy although slightly gooey, so, by all accounts, at least it didn't seem like it was a total bust. Not until my poor little nugget snuck a few nibbles while I wasn't looking, (about the size of one brownie), to top off his morning bowl of Lucky Charms. An hour later and he's puking his guts out over a trash can in front of all of his classmates with tears streaming down his face. That's the kind of stuff that sticks forever. That's how they're going to remember him, as Evan-Vomit Smell-Blackwell. Yes, he was recovering from the flu and yes, it was not fully cooked, but people eat raw cookie dough all the time without becoming sick and he had been holding down solid food and even some ice cream for three days until he tried to digest just a small amount of that heavily processed crap. Now he's scarred for life too. Thank you Duncan Freakin' Hines for a job well done and hello Betty Crocker.
