Just an update on what’s been going on with Duff. It’s been a hard couple of weeks. I’m going to do better, I promise, but today wasn’t that day. Let me know how you get over grief. Love you all!
Duffy. Brought to you daily. (Mostly.) You’re welcome.
“And you say, I never cook. The sheer lies! I cook, I slave. I can’t even eat chocolate, but I do it for you! You! And the thanks I get? Paparazzied! Do I look like a Kardashian! Did I marry Kanye? Do I have wizard hair?! Don’t you answer that last part! Don’t you dare…” King Duffy is not amused.
This weekend in America, we give thanks for everything we have while secretly planning to leave our families and run outside to trample people for three dollar bras.
Oh, but not I. I want football. I want food. I want peopleless stores. I want
Idris Elba the love of a fuzzy four legged man.
Thanksgiving for me starts on Wednesday night with cooking. All. Night. Cooking. I don’t sleep. The meat has to be thawed for the marinade. The stuffing has to be made because that’s what I snack on. The potatoes where a challenge this year. Didn’t want mashed. Scalloped felt like added work. Crispy baked potatoes it was. Then with all the salt and carbs, I had to sneak in some roasted veggies.
With all this work how many people am I expecting for the big day? Two. Me and Duffy. Imagine if I actually knew other humans.
★ This whole holiday hinged on the World’s Greatest Stuffing.
★ Bucket O’ Carrots.
Guess what happened last Thursday? I have a fever that just can’t stop won’t stop. After much internal debate and a roasting head, I give up, make a vlog, and head to that white building downtown. If I don’t make it, you can have Destiny and my new mother board. But I better make it because I have left over cake in the fridge. What type of cake do you live for? And tell Duffy no parties!