When it comes to pastry, what God says goes.

In Ireland we celebrate a fun day called Pancake Tuesday; a day when, instead of drunkenly showing your breasts to thousands of strangers for cheap jewelry that you can buy for, quite literally, 10 cents each, you eat pancakes. Most men I know prefer the breasts but not Bub. Bub wants the pancakes covered in butter and sugar. He ate 5 of them. He's going to crash like a three year old after his first m&ms; in about an hour.

Thanks to an influx in immigration from Eastern Europe in Ireland I have recently found out that there is a day called Doughnut Day in Poland the Thursday before Lent. DOUGHNUT DAY. Last week all the Polish people at work flaunted their lovely doughnuts in front of all of us to see. I resisted knowing that a.) I'm not Catholic, b.) I'm not Polish, and c.) Pancake Tuesday was coming and even though they are weird, French pancakes, they are better than nothing.

Any any guilt I might have about the pancakes is taken care of. The pancakes and doughnuts are void of fat and calories because they are sanctioned by God, the supernatural being who said, "Give up your favorite treats for Jesus Christ, like he resisted the temptations of Satan for 40 days, but make sure to stuff yourself with pancakes, doughnuts and boobies the day before."

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Liz in Dublin