We're pathologically social. We're professional leisurists. We're burrito lovers, bar flies, art whores and music nerds. We dish the good dirt, and we'll risk a parking ticket for a cheap sample sale. Sometimes, we blog drunk.
Pizookie pals
My best friend Jenny and I have been going for late-night pizookie runs at BJ's runs since... well, since forever. Something about a piping hot, oversized cookie topped with whipped cream and vanilla ice cream really gets us talking. We talk about guys, we talk about our other friends, we talk about that one year in high school when we weren't talking and she had to do pizookie runs with someone else. It was a tough year and after "someone else" turned out to be a man-stealing slag , I was mercifully re-instated. But that's another story for another time.
Before we know it the pizookie we are sharing is gone and the bus boys are vacuuming the floors. We usually take that as our cue to leave, though not before snapping a few photos of the devastation we leave in our wake.
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