Here’s what happened: I made too many cupcakes. I wanted to make some chocolate and some yellow, and making half a batch seems wasteful, so I made a full batch of each. The word “batch” is weird when you say it more than once. Anyway, I made too many, and as the definition of “too many” would suggest, they weren’t all eaten. After the Oscars, Ryan and I left Rick and Kristin’s new Park Slope apartment, and on the way to the G train, made this cruel cold world and the hearts and stomachs of passersby, a little warmer. You might not think people would take a cupcake from a stranger on the street, but they did. They all did.
(OK, one guy on the subway platform didn’t take one. Snob. I’m spreading goodwill toward men, asshole.)
Whoever said New Yorkers aren't friendly never gave out free cupcakes in Brooklyn at midnight on a Sunday. This guy knows. And is that my good friend Jeff Allen, drinking coffee with him at 47 seconds? I think it is.
*Update: they're drinking cider.
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