So, I had this really odd day yesterday, and it's got me all warm and fuzzy. That is a good thing for you, because I am working inside my idiom. I live in the land of Perfect Housewives, and as such I make a mean dessert. So I am baking cookies. Lots of them. And I am mailing them, no questions asked, to anyone who wants them. The point here is that I am happy and I do random things when I am happy. End motivation. Since this place is what triggered it, this is where I am directing the randomness. And this time, it's cookies. I once got into a good mood and reshingled a neighbor's house, so there's your context.
Here is how this is going to work: hop on the Twitters (ETA: handle same as here, because I created it to log into Gawkerverse. ETA again: reference GT if you would, because otherwise I might wind up sending cookies to Twitter and oh God that's so many cookies.) and send me a message privately. I will need your address, or your work address, or whatever. A place. At some point, I will make you cookies. I make no tomorrow-for-sure promises, to be clear. I'm busy. But I am about to start my holiday (Halloween-New Year) baking season, and I will send some along as I go. Hopefully they show up on a day that you need a surprise that doesn't involve your plumbing. Should you also be a baker, let me know and I will figure out a cookie distribution scheme. It might involve dancing with Shelley Long, I make no guarantees.