Or, happy chocolate hunting and treat munching and egg crunching long weekend to y’all.

This year, for the first time in a bajillion years I became embroiled in an easter egg decorating competition. I mean, the last time I put pen to egg I must have been… well… let’s just say probably around half the years of age that I have somehow managed to accumulate now.

And this being one goddamn serious competition, the preceding week involved sabotage, intrigue and the imbibing of performance enhancing drugs.*

*Ahem, this is not necessarily true, unless you consider wine to be performance enhancing.

And so, on a dark and stormy night (otherwise known as a night in and an episode of Masterchef) the above monstrosity came to life.

So now I say; come one, come all, come visit our eggish circus, and share your hellish (or perhaps quaint, I’m not completely allergic to the sweet and the sugary) easter egg attempts. Points for picures. No prizes for points, unfortunately, but I raise my glass and cheers to you with my digital beer.

*Dons top hat, cracks whip, smiles hideously in the spotlight*