Imagine waking up on Sunday morning after a super fun night out on the town for your friend's birthday. You're exhausted, you're sore, your voice is hoarse from proclamations of merriment, your hair smells funny and you still have one sock on. Now imagine that this donut appears on your nightstand. Feeling a bit better now? I thought so.
Someday I want to coat my whole arm in icing and dip it in a vat of sprinkles. I wouldn't know what to do next, sadly, once I'm thoroughly spackled with hardening icing and sugary bits. I wouldn't want to eat it, I just want to take pictures of it maybe and call myself "Ol' Donut Arm". I guess just a donut will do.
Now that I'm getting older and slowing down a little (LIES!) and not raging six nights a week like I once did, I can imagine eating bright green donuts shaped like sweet little bears without feeling queasy in the least. There was a time when even the hint of breakfast would send me wretching. I'm happy to be able to appreciate the cuteness and whimsy of green icing.