Mood: *Sad face*

In my defense, however, it wasn't really my fault. It was left over grocery store dough from Mason's house which I took home after his oven broke down and thwarted our previous cookie baking endeavors. With the packaging gone I didn't know: a) the oven temperature at which to bake, and b) the length of time to bake; so I had to wing it with some reasonable guestimations. Some how though in the period of checking on them the first time at eight minutes and re-checking them the second time at 10 minutes, they somehow managed to go from still raw and gooey to black rock cakes of doom.

*So so sad*

In non-cookie related news, we saw 300 last night. It was a gruesome, blood-soaked romp through the Spartan countryside -- good, sort of Gladiator-ish and very stylish, with lots of very ripped men in tight leather speedos. I remain undecided on whether the speedos were a good thing or a bad point.

*Tummy still so hungry for cookies*