Another Loser-Ass Stepsister
After knocking at the door, no, wait, after having his royal servant knock at the door, and then having several royal servants wield pitchforks to drive away the still whimpering St. Bernard-faced bitch Splenda, he goes inside.
Sure enough, as is often the case in kingdom families, there is a beautiful daughter. One who got lucky and sidestepped the inbreeding. She glides into the room with such grace and elegance that the prince initially fails to notice that she is frighteningly small. Tiny. Her head barely reaches his belt buckle, and for all the seedy thoughts this proportion injects into the prince's mind, rules are rules. The glass slipper must perfectly fit the tiny beauty.
He places the slipper in front of her, realizing forlornly that it is obscenely too gargantuan for her eenie weenie foot. Way, way, way too big. It would be like asking her to use a saucer sled for a diaphragm.
The petite beauty begs for a chance with the slipper. She puts her entire body down into it, both legs stretching into the toe of the precious slipper, and she holds onto the glassy sides like an Olympian in a bobsled.
The prince is heartbroken. He dumps her out of the slipper like a scorpion out of an army boot. She is a Smart One and she knows what she has lost.
OK, that was a poor segue, but here's the story behind the story.
I bought some Smart Ones desserts. Also known as Weight Watchers. While rummaging through the frozen food aisle, I found Key Lime Cheesecake. That sounded wicked good. Not too many calories, still definitely some sugar intake, but nothing to break the glucose bank.
THE SERVINGS ARE TINY.
The two little round cheesecakes were the size of half dollars. It makes perfect sense that they don't house that many calories. Most of the entire serving gets caught in your teeth and then brushed out and spat into the sink. I've put cucumber slices on my eyes that were bigger.
I will admit, the cheesecake was really good. Of course, I was desperate. I was like that old painter guy in the movie Lawrence of Arabia who got thirsty enough in the desert that he drank his paints and dropped dead in the sand.
However, tasty or not, when I want a dessert, I want a dessert. Don't hand me some insultingly diminutive little cakie about as satisfying as a single Junior Mint and think I'm going to be happy. It's like giving me the Good without the Plenty. All you will do is honk Candy off.
So yes, Weight Watchers, take your piss poor pittance of a dessert and ram it up your Fergie ass.