Sexy Shabbos with Dr. Jenni
Tis the season of Purim. Mr. Cookie Dough needs a date. He takes a shower and butters up his rough skin. Once smooth and creamy, he shapes and trims himself. Then he does a little personal care to preheat his oven. He’s already given his engine-pan a nice oil change, so he is ready to drive to town and meet some women.
He goes to the local hangout called, The Pantry. There are many beautiful and juicy women there—Ms. Apricot, Ms. Cherry, and even bitter little Ms. Prune. He took Ms. Prune out to dinner last week at The Oven, but by the end of the date, he was starting to regret her company.
He passes through the bar and drink area and goes downstairs to see if there are more women in the food section. Again, he sees some familiar faces from the past, luscious Ms. Papaya from Hawaii and Ms. Guava who always wears too much pasty make-up. But they are sitting next to dingy Mr. and Mrs. Gluten-Free Flax Seed. They got married in Boulder last year on top of Flagstaff, after biking to the top.
Then his nemesis walks in—Mr. Biscotti. Ughh! Mr. Biscotti is so annoying. He thinks he’s snazzy and tasty, but he’s so drab. And he can never go out without his wingman, Mr. Snickerdoodle. And they always try to pick up the best lady fruits to go salsa dancing. They never seem to learn that fruit doesn’t mix well with salsa. But Mr. Cookie Dough stops criticizing. There are plenty of good cookies and good fruits for all to have. He just needs to step up his game. He goes to the car and puts on some cinnamon and nutmeg cologne. He comes back inside, ready get to cooking.
And then he sees her. She is sitting in the corner of The Pantry, alone. She is gorgeous, and dark, and mysterious. He has never seen her before, but he is drawn like a magnet, craving to open her up. What does she tastes like?
“Hello” he says, stepping near. He can smell her, almost like hazelnuts. “I’m Mr. Cookie Dough”.
“I’m Ms. Nutella,” she responds with a sweet accent, her brown eyes smiling deep and luxuriously.
“Are you from here,” he asks?
“I’m from Romania,” she sings.
He melts into the seat next to her, taking her hand, smiling ear to ear. Finally he has found the one. “You must keep Kosher too,” he inquires?
“But of course,” she responds.
They dine and dance, and a few weeks later, they are married. By the end of the year, they have a dozen babies in the oven (as good Jewish families do), all with chocolate cookie dough and nutella filling!
Have a sexy Shabbos and bake up some creative and succulent Hamentaschen this season!