I don’t have no boss, feeling lonely at home by myself. I have things I could do, I could call my favorite vegetable, but my belly is growling. The kitchen is too clean. Time to mess it up with some cosmik debris. I’m a baking tycoon. Gotta bake my radiant banana nut muffins, good enough for downtown Hollywood.
Put on the music. I think I’m itchin’ for some classic Frank Zappa right now. Joining him in song in the utility muffin baking research kitchen. I put on the oven and dance like a dancing fool around the room, beating and mashing the wet stuff, then adding the flour, scraping it down, whipping it up. Oh, god I am the American dream, I do not think I’m too extreme. Continue reading