It’s Official…Magic Shell is Crack Cocaine
Well, I made the grand mistake of bringing my son to the grocery store after a long day at work and now, I have this devil sauce in my house. Don’t ask me how it happened. I normally avoid the whole ice cream section like the plague that it is. All I have to do is look at fudge ripple and sure enough, my arse literally becomes fudge ripple. I have since told Brandon that he needs to become either a salesman or a lawyer. Dude can convince (read, grind you into submission) anyone of anything. So, here I am looking into the black hole of nutrition aka Magic Shell.
I resisted the loadstone rock for two whole days. TWO DAYS!!! And then I cracked. Like humpty dumpty (and now, thanks to my 0% body fat son and magic shell I actually look like humpty dumpty too) I fell off the wall. It started with the leftovers of Brandon’s bowl. Just a curious taste, I thought. Oh, the arrogance that I could just taste such a substance. Two full bowls and one helluva sugar crash later, I was scratching my skin and jonesing for more.
Who invented this stuff? And why do they hate me so?