Pie

When I wed I will have one requirement and one requirement alone of my man candy: that he bake me pie. 

 That's what I'm talking about. 

Oh, Ned the Piemaker. You are so dreamy.

Now friends, Pie is the perfect dessert. You can pretty much have any type of pie. Fruit Pie. Cheese Pie. Fluffy Glorious Meringue Pie. Pudding Pie. Meat Pie. Nut Pie. Squash Pie. Now I don't want to be the fat kid here, but I will eat ANY. TYPE. OF. PIE. God. They are all so perfect and delicious. If I could, I would eat pie everyday. And regardless of what my dearest KelKel says, I would eat it each and everytime warm, with vanilla ice cream. The kind with the little black specks in it.

One time I was at the farmer's market with a dear friend of mine and we saw a dude who looked like this man

standing behind a large table COVERED in pie. I jokingly asked him, "Did you make all these?" He sheepishly responded, "Yes." To which I not so jokingly said, "Will you marry me?"

Okay. So I didn't actually say that. But I did become so enamored of the Kevin Youkilis look-a-like pieman, that I stalked him every time I went to the farmer's market, so in love, that I could never actually speak to him or even buy a pie. Sad for my heart and my stomach indeed.

But this is why I am now going steady with this woman.

Do you see what she's holding? Oh yes. That's a HOMEMADE APPLE PIE. She woke up super early to make it. And though she probably was actually thinking of this woman when she made it

I still got to eat it. 

And it was amazing. Duh.

If my boyfriend ever asks any of you about advice in terms of what engagement ring to get me, tell him, diamonds are whack. I want a pie.

OK? OK.