I’m afraid of the tubed cans you open, you know, the ones that Pillsbury uses to house their extraordinarily nutritious treats. They scare me. I know they’re going to make a popping sound when I peel away the paper wrapping but I never know when this sound is going to take place. It scares me, that moment, especially when the dough pops out, a fleshy explosion from a can.
I used to get Tobyjoe to open the containers for me but he doesn’t like when I bring food items into the house that are enriched with saturated fat and/or an exorbitant number of calories. I can’t say I blame him.
But then yesterday I saw some TV commercial featuring that little white giggly dude and suddenly I needed Pillsbury Sweet Rolls, specifically, the cinnamon ones.
It was after 7 and I really didn’t want to go to the grocery store. The one that’s closest to the apartment closes at 7. I would have had to walk all the way to Bedford and screw exercise, even exercise punctuated by sweet rolls.
So, I made them from scratch.
It was shockingly easy. I found a recipe online and 3 hours later I had fresh, (not as unhealthy) sweet rolls.
(You totally want to touch my rolls, don’t you?)
Mihow 
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