"I would go so far as to say that 'snow' does not exist at all. It is nothing but a commodity produced by ski slopes to impress the easily exciteable into parting with large sums of money, its existence further promoted by the movie industry as bored directors seize upon it as another possible effect.
I admit that I was as taken in as anyone else by the seductive images, to the point where I can hardly hear the faint jingle of bells without being swept up into a deluded hysterical hope that so-called 'snowflakes' would tumble from the heavens, allowing me to make such things as 'snowballs', 'snowmen' and 'snow angels'. In fact, I may as well make a clean breast of it and admit that the very sight of one of these very deviously configered 'snowpersons' dressed in a jaunty hat decorating the weather pages has caused my heart to quicken painfully on more than one occasion, like someone suddenly seeing Johnny Depp wearing nothing but a pirates hat and a meaningful grin."
lizbee tells another horror story about Hell's Bakery:
"Today I found a pubic hair in a piping bag. So much boggling! So much squicking! So much soaking in boiling hot water! So many exclamation marks!
How did it get there, I wonder. One of the bakers was overcome by an unfortunate itch? Or an unfortunate itch in the most innuendo-laden possible way? He had an irresistible urge to make love to the jam?
So that was a piping bag full of jam down the drain. And I spent the rest of the day contemplating the unspeakable love that exists between man and breakfast spread."