Sugar, Sugar, Sugar

This morning, after a hearty breakfast of red swedish fish and Fiji water, I came across this quote:

“Sugar kills,” director Guy Ritchie fumed during a promotional event.

“Think of the calories in sugar. Fat kills more people than anything else. Sugar is responsible for a lot of deaths, arguably more than crack cocaine.”

Ok, let’s think about this shall we?

I’m pretty sure that there aren’t a lot of “sugar heads” lingering on the corners of poorly lit streets at night looking for a fix. And sugar doesn’t always make you fat. If that were true, I’d be bigger than a hot air balloon. Yet I remain easy on the eyes with a petite (and sassy) frame. Maybe I’m a little biased since I’m a chick and am naturally made of half sugar (and half spice).

Still, my love affair with sugar goes back to my days of only using Twizzlers as straws — which I still do — because let’s face it, regular straws are for suckers. And who doesn’t like cupcakes, birthday cakes, Wonka bars, or even a mojito with pink sugar crystals lining the rim of the glass?

Apparently Mr. Ritchie has never had cotton candy served to him in such an amazing manner as I have witnessed one evening at Kitchen 305 in Miami (see below).

The worst part is that it’s always people like him who end up finding the golden ticket to Wonka’s crib and don’t even think twice about it…probably using it as a coaster for a pint of some sour dark ale.

Guy Ritchie is such a hater. You know what is really “responsible for a lot of deaths, arguably more than crack cocaine” … having to sit through one of his lame ass films.

I’ll toast to that. Now, someone get me a Twizzler so I can drink my Kool Aid.

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