I'm pretty sure there is something out there trying to kill me.
And I think that something is Food.
Food's weapon of choice? Food.
Every time Food shows up at my house we have a great time - but as soon as Food leaves, I'm suddenly so ill I feel like I might explode.
Part of the problem may be that I pick up the Food, put it in my mouth, chew it and then swallow it as quickly as possible.
And the other part of the problem may be that I don't stop until every last speck of food in the house is gone, like little Cindy Lou Who's house on Christmas Eve...
...but let's not pretend like Food isn't to fault here for being so delicious.
Kind of like how girls who wear slutty clothes can't complain when a guy tries to throw peanuts down her top - I can't possibly be held accountable for eating food if it is in the tri-county area.
And even that analogy sucks -
Because I would have eaten those peanuts before they ever made it to her top.
Mmmmm....Boob Peanuts.
Food strikes again.
4 comments:
"Boob Peanuts" would be a great name for a rock band.
Also, a tasty tasty treat.
Apparently the whole throwing down people's shirts (EVEN IF THEY'RE LOW CUT) thing is not appropriate at work.
The more you know.
oh yea, totally. i get you. if food didnt taste so good or come in such easily transportable packages we'd all be golden!
also just because food is so tasty doesn't mean you should try to have sex with it.
or so I've heard.
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