So most of you know I don't really like my apartment, mostly because of my crappy roommates. But also because I never get to bake, also mostly because of my crappy roommates. Seriously, I used to bake all the time. When I lived in Seattle I had pies and cookies comin' out like every week or so, even a special glass pie one time. But since I've lived in New York the only thing I can remember baking is a cake for that guy who shall not be named who I sort of dated, and he didn't even really like it. One more reason why he's a bastard. But now I'm basically living with Parfait and finally, after months of not having any, the gas in his apartment has been reconnected. I've already baked like 4 batches of cookies in the past two weeks. And last night I decided to make some blueberry muffins. Oh man, I love blueberry muffins. I used to make them all the time when I was a kid but I haven't made any since I was in college. I was so excited. They finished baking around 9PM and I pretty much ate them for dinner. And it was glorious. The tops were so crusty and fluffy. I want one right now. Parfait only ate one, he has some restraint, but not me! While unwrapping my third he suddenly shouted, Stop! I thought he was going to reprimand me for being such a piggy but no. I get to eat the top. What?! No. I turned around and gave him the look of death. We ended up sharing, ugh. The lesson, don't get between me and my baked goods.