This year, give that special someone the gift she REALLY wants…
Today’s recipe is all about cohesion. Making sure all ingredients meld together is essential for this dish:
You will need:
-2 gallons of ice cream
-a friend with a mallet
1. Place 1 banana on a table standing upright.
2. Eat 2 gallons of ice cream in under an hour.
3. Wait 15 minutes.
4. Step up on the table and place your buttocks upon the banana.
5. While on the table, asshole-hovering-over-banana, have your mallet wielding associate slam you on the head. This should simultaneously force the banana upwards into your rectum and push the fudge ice cream squirts out.
A few of my close friends were presented with the ultimate opportunity to go see Sammy Adams (Boston’s Boy) in concert. Little did they know they would be meeting one of the most down to earth, level headed, influential artists of the 21st century.
Upon arriving to the concert they were immediately engulfed in a see of teenage boys (my friends are 23). With their VIP passes they were soon admitted to the bar section of the auditorium, they were the only ones allowed to drink. Later that night, they were lucky enough to meet and actually hang out with Mr. Sammy.
As his posse eagerly awaited his arrival they began smoking the herb and further intoxicating themselves with alcoholic beverages. Upon his entrance to the building he snapped his fingers and his minions went to work, blasting Sammy Adams – I Hate College, lifting him above their shoulders, feeding him grapes and catering to his every move.
Oh and the concert was in NYC…thought that was ironic.
As you can tell, the below conversation was sparked by a fantastic experience with a truly talented artist.
Take it in your hand
Feel its meandering shaft
Firm but gentle grip
Starry night above
Tree branches frame the pale moon
I tug my penis
Every once in awhile, the road of life requires us to negotiate particularly tricky twists and turns, forks, and so many branchings. Today, I came to a crossroads.
It was around 2 o’clock on a blustery December afternoon. My friend – I’ll use the generic name ‘Tim’ – asked if he could borrow my glass pipe, which I occasionally use as a device for smoking marijuana. Apparently Tim had acquired some marijuana, yet lacked a means to ingest it. Since I knew I probably wouldn’t be using the pipe for the next week or two, I said “sure.” At this point all that was left to do was arrange the logistics of the pick up.
Tim said he’d be over in a few hours to pick up the pipe. I told him that if I had to run out for any reason, I would put the pipe inside a small wooden box and then place that box in my mailbox (since today is Sunday, the mailman wouldn’t be coming by, and assuredly would not be receiving an early Christmas bonus in the form of a dainty glass pipe). Anyway, as soon as I told Tim the bowl would be waiting in a small wooden box in my mailbox, an absolutely genius idea flashed before my mind’s eye, like a streak of lightening illuminating a jet-black summer sky.
About two months ago, my younger sister was given a hamster by one of her friends. It lived for a few weeks but died suddenly, so I agreed to help her bury it in a small wooden box in our back yard. As soon as the words ‘small wooden box’ rolled off my tongue during my conversation with Tim, I glimpsed a major opportunity. I could go out back, dig up the hamster’s coffin, dust the dirt and soil off of it, and place it gently in my mailbox. Tim would arrive and see the small box in my mailbox just like he had expected to, and then swiftly take the box back to his house, where Samsonite and some other friends were waiting and itching to get high. Assuming the smell wouldn’t tip him off before he got back home, Tim would likely ascend his stairs, greet his young friends, and proceed to open the box in order to pack the pipe he was expecting to find. Instead, Tim would be greeted with the small, rotting skeleton-corpse of a decaying hamster. He would likely recoil in disgust and drop the box on the ground, which would cause the hamster-corpse to roll out onto the floor. Equally shocked and disgusted, his friends would likely jump to the conclusion that Tim had finally gone totally insane.
So, the choice was ready to be made. Should I give Tim the pipe, or should I give him the hamster?
I decided on the hamster.