I'm Pam Newman.

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I'm a writer of aricles, poems & songs. Here's some cool stuff I wrote.

Y’all. Look at that damn dessert.
First of all. My boyfriend is wonderful and brilliant because he suggested that we go to Ghyslain for dessert after a delicious dinner out last night.
This thing. It’s called Charlemagne, and it is chocolate cake, with chocolate ganache and dark and white chocolate sticks surrounding it with shaved milk chocolate on top.
My first bite made my panties wet.
I am not. even. joking. It was so good.
I held a bite of it on my fork, stared at it and said, “I want to write poetry about this confection.”
Holy shit it was delicious.

Y’all. Look at that damn dessert.

First of all. My boyfriend is wonderful and brilliant because he suggested that we go to Ghyslain for dessert after a delicious dinner out last night.

This thing. It’s called Charlemagne, and it is chocolate cake, with chocolate ganache and dark and white chocolate sticks surrounding it with shaved milk chocolate on top.

My first bite made my panties wet.

I am not. even. joking. It was so good.

I held a bite of it on my fork, stared at it and said, “I want to write poetry about this confection.”

Holy shit it was delicious.

Halls of My Ancestors Pie

I hastily prepared this pie for a pot luck today, and I was told that, “This is fire!” I was also told, “That sounds like death, but a good and honorable death. One that would allow me to travel to the halls of my ancestors or whatever.”

Now the time has come for us to become archaeologists in our own lives and transform ourselves into the pie that will transmogrify our souls back to the halls and forests of our ancestors. Create the future by contacting the past through some bomb-ass chocolate pie, y’all.

You’ll need:

  • A big gram cracker crust (or make one yourself)
  • A tub of chocolate cream cheese (or you can make it yourself by adding cocoa powder to softened cream cheese until it is the color of the darkest, most sensual crevices of your soul)
  • Fudge covered Ritz (Also, the $1 box of fudge covered gram crackers in the cookie isle should work too)
  • A pint-sized container of chocolate ice cream or if u fancy, a container of chocolate gelato. You can let it sit out for like an hour to make it soft, or if you’re in a hurry/brave, follow the directions of what I did.
  • A tub of cool whip
  1. This is easy as a medium may find it to contact your ancestors prior to consuming this near-mythical pie.
  2. Put the cream cheese in the microwave for like 30 seconds, and melt it down so it’ll spread easy. Spread it on the bottom of your pie crust.
  3. Crumble up your fudge covered crackers. I did this by snapping them in half into a bowl and then crushing them with a big spoon. Sprinkle them evenly on top of the cream cheese.
  4. Okay… This is probably the hardest part. I was in a hurry, so I had to microwave the gelato. I put it in there for like 25 seconds and it was perfect. Scoop it out and spread it over top of the crackers. It’s okay if they get mixed up in it. It’s all taking you to the same place in the end.
  5. Eat some of the ice cream, you know. To make sure that it is powerful enough for your transformative needs.
  6. Scoop out the whipped cream and plop it on the ice cream. I spread it around, but you can also try and make it pretty if that’s your thing
  7. Sprinkle mini chocolate chips on top for garnish and extra connection to mankind.
  8. In the words of G Love & the Special Sauce: “Stick it in the fridge, stick it in the fridge, stick it in the fridge.” For about an hour. Serve, eat, and have visions of a world without hate.
This is a dark chocolate covered almond.
I can attest to its utter deliciousness.

This is a dark chocolate covered almond.

I can attest to its utter deliciousness.

I wonder

If when science figures out a “Cure,” for PMS, the menstral cycle and all that business that the chocolate industry will suffer dramatically.

Because damn, this Hershey’s bar is actively solving problems.

lesbianseatoutmore:

Samoa Cupcakes

The insurmountable level of joy this image put into my heart probably means  I need to eat something made of chocolate. STAT.

lesbianseatoutmore:

Samoa Cupcakes

The insurmountable level of joy this image put into my heart probably means  I need to eat something made of chocolate. STAT.

I will be making an announcement shortly. 
Word has it the announcement will be about the death of this foreign chocolate bar, which has been making terrorist threats against my thighs.

I will be making an announcement shortly. 

Word has it the announcement will be about the death of this foreign chocolate bar, which has been making terrorist threats against my thighs.

Enjoy that basket while you can, “Sunny.” If that is even your real name.

Prepare for a slathering of peanut butter, chunky style. And then? Get ready for a brutal munch-down!

Enjoy that basket while you can, “Sunny.” If that is even your real name.

Prepare for a slathering of peanut butter, chunky style. And then? Get ready for a brutal munch-down!

UGH. I am really committed to this diet… but my reproductive organs are demanding a chocolate-covered tribute!
This is a cry for help. Help getting this candy into my mouth!
(The click-through link is really not helping. I think I am intentionally torturing myself.)

UGH. I am really committed to this diet… but my reproductive organs are demanding a chocolate-covered tribute!

This is a cry for help. Help getting this candy into my mouth!

(The click-through link is really not helping. I think I am intentionally torturing myself.)

YUM.

YUM.

I am having a whiny-childlike-pms-hissy fit

It’s really about nothing at all. Just hormones and me wanting to rage. I haven’t bitched anyone out, complained about anything to anyone, or even texted anyone who I shouldn’t about my impending uterine-itis. My reasonable attitude towards my PMS-induced rage in itself is slightly irritating.

I’m bored and stagnant and sorta not getting my way. Waaah!!!

This is not healthy.

The solution?

A Chocolate Motherfucking Milkshake!!

I have no idea how I’m going to successfuly diet. I mean, being a professional artist sounds like it’s a great way to lose weight, but I don’t presently control the groceries. This house is presently supplied with potato chips, kit-kat bars, pasta, bread, chocolate ice cream and nowhere near enough vegetables. 

Creating a healthy meal in my home is like asking Sara Pailn to stop being a fucking tool.

As I gig out more, I’ll be bringing more dinero, thus more fresh fruit, tofu & veggies into my home, but as for right now, debt dictates my diet.

Plus, I’m fucking PMSing over here!! I require chocolate & milk-based delicacies!!

I’ve gotta figure out a way to exercise in the cold. In the spring, summer and fall, I’d just take a long walk. I’d go swimming. I’d go to a park and run.

The winter can eat it. It’s too cold for that shit.

I obviously cannot afford a gym membership.

Doing it at home is not an option for a variety of reasons, and the number one reason is space. The number two reason is psychologically, I know me. I’m more likely to stick to doign an exercise routine I must leave my home for.

I would like to have an exercise buddy who doesn’t want to get all up in my life. I don’t need new friends. I’ve got plenty. I just need someone to motivate & to motivate me… and not be a bitch, relative, combination of the aforementioned two or someone who I ever go drinking with… or reads my tumblr, lol. 

I’ll figure it out for sure! When I’m exercising, chocolate will be less of a requirment. I’ll be happier. I’ll be actively working toward a goal.

HOW THE FUCK EVER: Right now I wanna be growly about some legit shit while I happily eat this chocolate liquid.