Who do Voodoo? AKA: Time to Eat The Donuts

Heredity is a strange and sometimes evil thing. Case in point: the dreaded Romney sweet-tooth. I am sure it is a hereditary trait as I have seen grandparent, parents, aunts, uncles, siblings (Lisa used to eat sugar cubes straight from the box!) and cousins eat mountains and mountains of the white stuff. It is the Romney equivalent to cocaine (since we are pretty much a drug free crew). My poor Romney has also inherited this from his Romney side, and loves sugar as a true Romney should. I mention this so that the following post will make more sense...



This is me, standing in a line that stretches to the street corner for a donut. Yup, just one donut, that is all I want, but I am willing to stand in a ridiculously long line in a strange city to get one. (Albeit, a very famous one.) The saga for a Voodoo Donut began two years ago. I was killing some time, watching t.v. (the beginning of most evils) and flipped to the Travel Channel that was at that very (fortuitous, dare I say) moment featuring this little shop with a loyal following and freaky flavors in Portland. And so my quest began.



And really who wouldn't wait in line for donuts covered in cereal, grape kool-aid, and a maple bar with two pieces of bacon. (Let's not leave out the voodoo doll shaped donut filled with Raspberry (bloody) goo. A signature if ever there was one.)





This is Romney trying to get money out of the graffiti covered ATM, in hopes he will be able to buy more than just ONE! (I warned you he had the Romney Sugar Curse).





This is Romney pretending to eat the giant donut hanging from the wall...













and this is his mother doing the same thing. (Heredity, again?)









Was it worth it? 40 minutes later, this is the crew. Eating their Devil, Voodoo and GrapeApe donuts. Should I be worried William chose the pentagram donut and Romney the Voodoo doll? Well, my shaking is not from fear, merely the sugar rush I am now suffering/enjoying.






Sugar... Deadly, but cute.















Nothing like a bloody donut that doubles as a way to make your enemies pay...












The result... One sick tummy, two messy cheeks, and four happy (if not, sugar rushing) campers.