WHOOPIE!

I was more than a little unhappy with my human for not bringing me back squat from Canada. So of course I'd be way more than mad if she came back from Philadelphia without an eatable, right?

Right.

So did she bring me a cheesesteak? Some scrapple? A freaking pretzel? No. Because I guess my human didn't want to sit in the car for 2 hours with a stinky cheesesteak and didn't want to smell me with a belly full of SPAM's cousin. I forget what the pretzel did wrong.

Whatever. I think these are all pretty lame reasons not to bring your favorite pug an eatable. And I totally was seriously thinking about going poodle when she pulled out a bag from a place called Flying Monkey Bakery and said the magic word: breakfast. 

I didn't even ask what was in the bag -- you know anything from a place called Flying Monkey is going to be ridiculously good. I just went to sleep and waited for breakfast. And when breakfast didn't come soon enough, I woke everyone up early. Like, before the sun early.

Uhm, yeah. A bag from Flying Monkey Bakery is totally worth waking up in the dark for. Because inside my bag was this thing called a Whoopie Pie. Uh huh. Say it with me:

Whoooopie Pie!

I'm not 100% sure what a Whoopie Pie even is, but Google says they're like eating the best parts of a cupcake. I'm pretty sure mine tasted like pumpkin pie on the outside and had ice creamy-ish stuff in the middle. Whatever they are, Whoopie Pies are ridiculously tasty. So tasty I ate the whole ginormous thing in three bites. 

ONE WHOOPIE

TWO WHOOPIE

THRRREEE WHOOPIE

NO MORE WHOOPIE