Parent Trap
Let’s unpack this fever dream of a baked good:
Step one: Oreo cookie base. Because I don’t play games. This isn’t amateur hour. This is full-sent, dial-up internet, AIM away message energy.
Then I said, “What if... hear me out... we just emotionally damage the cookie in the best way possible?” So I yeeted in some Nutter Butters, because childhood snacks are the only therapy I can afford.
But I wasn’t done. Oh no. I added Peanut Butter Oreos, because if you’re gonna spiral, do it with layers. Added peanut butter chips too, because nothing says “I’m fine” like doubling down on the theme.
And just when the dough thought it could breathe—BAM. I shoved a glorious, ridiculous, no-regrets core of pure peanut butter right in the center like I was hiding a dark secret from my cookie therapist.
This is not just a cookie. This is a Lindsay-Lohan-dual-role-matching-outfits-summer-camp-level COOKIE EXPERIENCE.
It’s chaos. It’s comfort. It’s clearly a cry for attention—and you’re gonna LOVE IT.
Let’s unpack this fever dream of a baked good:
Step one: Oreo cookie base. Because I don’t play games. This isn’t amateur hour. This is full-sent, dial-up internet, AIM away message energy.
Then I said, “What if... hear me out... we just emotionally damage the cookie in the best way possible?” So I yeeted in some Nutter Butters, because childhood snacks are the only therapy I can afford.
But I wasn’t done. Oh no. I added Peanut Butter Oreos, because if you’re gonna spiral, do it with layers. Added peanut butter chips too, because nothing says “I’m fine” like doubling down on the theme.
And just when the dough thought it could breathe—BAM. I shoved a glorious, ridiculous, no-regrets core of pure peanut butter right in the center like I was hiding a dark secret from my cookie therapist.
This is not just a cookie. This is a Lindsay-Lohan-dual-role-matching-outfits-summer-camp-level COOKIE EXPERIENCE.
It’s chaos. It’s comfort. It’s clearly a cry for attention—and you’re gonna LOVE IT.
Let’s unpack this fever dream of a baked good:
Step one: Oreo cookie base. Because I don’t play games. This isn’t amateur hour. This is full-sent, dial-up internet, AIM away message energy.
Then I said, “What if... hear me out... we just emotionally damage the cookie in the best way possible?” So I yeeted in some Nutter Butters, because childhood snacks are the only therapy I can afford.
But I wasn’t done. Oh no. I added Peanut Butter Oreos, because if you’re gonna spiral, do it with layers. Added peanut butter chips too, because nothing says “I’m fine” like doubling down on the theme.
And just when the dough thought it could breathe—BAM. I shoved a glorious, ridiculous, no-regrets core of pure peanut butter right in the center like I was hiding a dark secret from my cookie therapist.
This is not just a cookie. This is a Lindsay-Lohan-dual-role-matching-outfits-summer-camp-level COOKIE EXPERIENCE.
It’s chaos. It’s comfort. It’s clearly a cry for attention—and you’re gonna LOVE IT.