Justification

I am eating this pistachio gelato (a.k.a. lunch and dinner) and my justification for mowing down is that the pistachios must have some sort of protein in them, so I need the protein. I am responding to my body's need for nourishment.
Yeah right, this sh*t is good, and I may eat the whole pint and go to bed without a single shred of remorse, an emotion that was the central idea behind the brilliant marketing campaign of the Puritans. And since they had no style whatsoever, I'm not feeling the power of the message.
Speaking of remorse, did I mention that I had a near-lesbian cage dance at a costume party last night? Hey, when a dude asks you and your friend to dance in a suspended cage above hundreds of people, you put out all the stops. Put out being the operative phrase here. I cannot blame the alcohol since very little was consumed, I blame circumstances and, of course, the pink and black boa.
The only remorse I have about this event is that the photo documentation was taken from below and therefore the shots are, you guessed it, f*cking awkward at best. I actually shudder to think how many people were snapping photos of my sexy suspension.
I was wearing a skirt, people. I hope it was worth it.
The gelato sure is.