So it turns out I'm not June Cleaver after all

I am NOT a baker. At all. I'm a pretty damn good cook, but a terrible baker - however, I persist in the notion that someday, somehow, I will become the Martha Stewart of baking (although I guess Martha is already the Martha Stewart of baking - but moving on). So, in a sudden fit of domesticity this evening, I decided to try out the hot new M&M cookie recipe I'd stumbled across earlier this week.

I had high hopes. Deep in my soul, I knew these would be the best cookies ever - light, slightly chewy yet fluffy, with bright M&Ms peeking cheerfully out through the golden brown crust. Yes, they would be the perfect cookie.

Of course, what I ended up with was this:

Let's take a closer look:

Seriously. Doesn't that look like it should belong in the Gallery of Regrettable Food? Eeeeeew.

I even tried to be the world's best house wench and make Ben cheesy "I love you" cookies, but they didn't fare so well:

Yes, it does spell out "I <3 style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_c-llRFi2mm0/SKwZ1YHTVQI/AAAAAAAAAQE/qGUuq3gFfVk/s400/Cookies+017b.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5236588871521883394" border="0">
(Let's take a moment to appreciate my mad Photoshop skills here. And also my cute cupcake towel.)

I did manage to get five decent ones out of the entire batch. Which are piled on top of all the crap cookies, of course - the better to lure unsuspecting eaters:

At least I know someone will volunteer to eat the ones on the bottom:

You can always depend on Korben the Wonder Dog.