Pinterest: Nailed It (or) Failed It?

My Goobs and I love Pinterest. Especially my Anemone. She doesn’t just look at all the pretty pictures. She DOES stuff. She also makes OTHER people do stuff.

She got us all involved in a Sidewalk Chalk Photo Shoot.


She got me to fix her hair in a pretty Pretzel Braid.


She tried very hard to draw a Realistic Eye.

She even forced JellyMan to make her a Harry Potter Wand out of paper and hot glue.

So when Deb, who is Not Inadequate, tweeted “Hey, wanna do a Pinterest challenge?” I was all, “Bring it,” thinking Anemone would take care of it for me. (I don’t know why the rest of the crazies agreed to it.) I told Deb to float a Magic Eraser in a toilet bowl. (Because I’m certainly not going to throw a perfectly good Magic Eraser into a toilet bowl.) Deb told me to make knock-off perfect Krispy Kreme donuts. (Because Deb is mean.)



I suck at donuts! But! I have an Anemone! Anemone would LOVE to make donuts, right?

Wrong. Anemone said, “Homemade donuts are gross,” and refused to have anything to do with it.



So here I am, one day before the deadline (THIS CHALLENGE HAS RULES! DEADLINES! BUTTONS! GROUP EMAILS! ALL MY FAVORITE THINGS! HAHAHAHAHA!), scrambling to gather all the ingredients.


Why am I out of oil? Why am I out of powdered sugar? Why am I out of milk?

Why didn’t I just make the damn winecork giraffe?

Two weeks ago?

The Man saves me by going out for groceries (twice), and I proof the yeast. 

Then my mom calls. We chat. I continue making donuts. She waits until I’m armpit deep in donut dough and drops some bad news on me.

Norman, our wonderful, most excellent canine companion, who is spending his declining years at the family farm, is dead. Dead. There is weeping. There is wailing. There are slightly hysterical Goobers. 

And I am one cup short of all-purpose flour.



I’m covered in dough (it’s in my arm hair, Tressa! My ARM HAIR!), puffy eyed, and in my pajamas, The Man is blissfully sleeping off a night shift, and The Goobs are holding each other and sniffling. I DO NOT WANT TO GO TO THE STORE RIGHT NOW. So I sprinkle a few tablespoons of whole wheat flour into the mix just to see what happens, and then I heave a huge, pitiful sigh, and start cleaning myself up so I can go to the freaking store, because, in the immortal words of Agent J, damn.

I drop a bag of flour at the store, but the less said about that, the better.

I get home, finish the now charmingly wheat-speckled dough, eat about a pound and a half of it (what diet?), and let it rise. Of course I forget to put it in a clean bowl or cover it or whatever, but who the hell cares at this point? Not me. I log into Twitter, and Deb, after offering her condolences on my dead dog, heckles me for a) procrastinating and b) not taking pictures.  

For you, Deb: a picture of my kitchen counter AFTER I made the donut dough.


And here’s a picture of the counter after I cleaned it.


I’m just kidding; I didn’t really clean anything. I just shifted the mess to another counter.


The Goobs are always on me like turkey buzzards when I am making something New and Exciting in the kitchen, and today is no exception. They’re only crying a little now, and they’re starting to be embarrassed about it, so as I roll out the dough, I chat them up a bit. I roll and I chat and I roll and I chat and I ROLL and I CHAT, and all of a sudden I’m looking at a square acre of what appears to be cracker dough.




We are resourceful people. We cut it into strips like bread sticks, then twist the sticks into rings. 


This clearly won’t do.

So I curse and reroll the dough and use a drinking glass to cut out proper donut shapes. And I curse some more while The Goobs laugh at me. I poke a hole in the middle of each round, stretch them out, curse a bit, and let the dough rise. Again, The Goobs laugh. What the *#&! ever, Goobs.


And because my Goobs need good donuts today, I take great care to heat the oil properly.


They’re looking very much like donuts, and I am cautiously optimistic.


Anemone is so depressed over Norman that she forgets that she didn’t want to make donuts with me. She takes care of the glazing. I would kiss her, but I don’t want to scare her away.


The finished product:


So, did I Nail It, or did I Fail It? It was a mixed bag. The donuts were fairly tasty, by far the best homemade donut recipe I’ve tried. But they were definitely not as good as Krispy Kreme donuts. Also, they made a huge mess and made me say three Very Bad Words. But the bad words made my Goobs laugh, and they enjoyed the donuts. Honestly, people, it could go either way.        

And then…


Bacon made it better. I’m calling it a win!

Go check out the rest of the participants! I’m know I’m dying to find out whether or not that Magic Eraser did the trick…


10 thoughts on “Pinterest: Nailed It (or) Failed It?

  1. NAILED IT! Those are gorgeous donuts. And your story-telling alone puts this whole challenge over the top. I am sorry for your loss. It's got to be hard losing your beloved pet while he is so far away. I am sorry.

  2. First of all, that top picture with A? Awesome! Secondly, your whole post is hysterical! Thirdly, those donuts look very good, but also like a lot of work.

  3. All right, first of all, the whole lot of you are a bunch of ingrates. I clearly had the BEST IDEA EVER and no one appreciates my awesomeness. *sigh*Secondly, you are the bestest, most hilariousest writer ever and I am giving myself full credit for inspiring this most excellent donut post. INSPIRING. Not BULLYING.Thirdly, BACON! bacon bacon bacon baconYou Nailed It! (ps – that pretzel braid is truly impressive. so pretty!)

  4. The sidewalk chalk photo is extremely nice- frameable quality. That sounds like it was the type of day that nobody wants to experience ever again, and still, the donuts look good. Aight! Oh, and there ain't no such thing as aliens or Men in Black.

  5. They look great! Bacon makes everything better.Next time you guys decide to do a ridiculous (and hopefully late-80s-song-inspired) Pinterest challenge, I want in. It's been at least a couple of days since I made a public fool of myself.

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