When my friend Julie and I (the one who I’ve known since birth) were home for Christmas break our sophomore year of college, we went on a Christmas cookie baking spree. Sadly, this baking wasn’t for our local church or for a charity bake sale, but rather, it was a scheme we came up with to stalk hot boys at their homes over the holiday. The plan was to bake the most amazing cookies ever — and then take the cookies to boys’ doorsteps on Christmas Eve day. We had visions of the sexy men fawning all over the decadent treats and then ripping off all our clothes and ravaging our naked bodies in a fit of passion.
So on the afternoon of December 24th, we compiled a list of all the hot boys we thought were potential holiday hookups — a modest fifty. Then, we bought the ingredients and started cooking. However, because neither of us were bakers, we didn’t take into account that baking 25 dozen fabulous cookies would take hours upon hours. All of a sudden we realized by the time the cookies were done it’d be too late to knock on the boys’ doors and not appear like crazy peepers that had been watching them hang stockings by the light of the moon. Finally, we decided it didn’t matter; we’d planned to simply write a cute note and deliver the cookies to their doorsteps in the middle of the night like a secret Santa. We figured we’d wake up to a barrage of phone calls from the boys thanking us, asking for dates, and offering sexual favors.
At 3am we began the cookie delivery. After about 20 stops, we started getting bored of driving around and dropping cookies on the front porches of dark homes. Consequently, boys not 10 hours earlier that were deemed “god-like,” now started looking less and less cookie-worthy. In the end, we were: confronted by one pissed off mom who probably dumped the “slut sweets” in the trash, almost mauled by a dog (who ate the cookies intended for its sexy owner), caught in motion detector high beams while an entire family glared at us from the window, and both sick to our stomach from consuming upwards of 40 cookies a piece.
Needless to say, the scheme didn’t turn out like we had planned. We failed to realize that leaving a bag of cookies outside in the middle of the night probably wasn’t a great idea due to things like snow and raccoons. We talked to a few guys who said they found a bag of what looked like crushed confections in the middle of the yard, others said they never got them, and some were just generally creeped out because we had been prowling around their house in the middle of the night. Thus, the first and only “Hot Boy Christmas Cookie Delivery.”