Guy 1- Well, kids like candy, right?
Rest of room murmurs agreement.
Guy 1- And they like pizza, right?
Others- Yes.
Guy 1- So, what if we combined the two into the one product- A CANDY PIZZA?
Gasps, and exclamations of "Of course!" " Why didn't we think of this before?" and "Genius! Pure genius!"
Guy 2- I know! We can make it look as totally unappetizing as possible! AND we can make it taste like an over-used styrofoam kickboard filled with sugar!
Guy 3- And we can add heaps and heaps of BEEF GELATIN and BEESWAX for extra kick!
Whole room rises in standing ovation.
I mean, come on? Would YOU eat this thing? And if the answer is yes, I'd seriously urge you to reconsider. Since eating the cursed thing, I've developed a number of large, pustulant growths on my back, and have a chronic fear of kickboards. The mere sight of one can send me into near fatal flashbacks.
Ok. Let's get one thing straight.
I love my Grandpop, and I think he's a wonderful man. But there's only
so much schmaltz a girl can take before her natural sarcastic instincts
kick in.
This
is a box of love. Yes. A box of LOVE. They say money can't buy love, but
in this case somehow managed to. The 'love' is wrapped in a 4x4x2 cm cardboard
box with a bit of curling ribbon and a cheap cloth flower. With it came
a little piece of paper, on which was written the following poem-
This is a very special gift
That you can never see
The reason it's so special
It's just for you from me
Whenever you are lonely
Or even feeling blue
You only have to hold this gift
And know I'll think of you
You never can unwrap it
Please leave the ribbon tied
Just hold the box close to your
heart
It's filled with love inside
You may be forgiven for retching
into your keyboard right about now. While the message behind the poem is
a nice one, the sickly sentiment is so thick you could patch the leaks
in a Collins Class Submarine with it.
Now, I know I'm not supposed to
open it. But, you know what? I think the world needs more love in it. And
here is this little bit of love, hammering on the lid of the box, calling-
"Let me out! I want to be free! I want to be freeeeee...."
So,
I did the unthinkable- I opened the box. Be free, love! Make the world
a better place! Just don't write any poetry, okay?
Look. I'm sorry. I wanted to keep
this site free of smut, filth, and the word 'umbrella'. But since I've
now used the word 'umbrella', I may as well go ahead with the smut and
filth. Besides, this product was too disturbing not to be put in
here.
I
purchased these incense sticks from those purveyors of filth and pornography,
the local IGA grocery store. They're created by our good friends at Kama
Sutra, and there's probably a good chance the staff were swinging from
leather straps suspended ten feet from the floor with all the blood draining
from their brains (p242, next to the picture of the guy with the enormous...
um... never mind) when they thought up this one.
Using logical reasoning, I have concluded that this incense
must smell like one of two things-
1) Burning *ahem* 'pussy'
2) Burning cat
Neither of these sound particularly fragrant, do they?
Let alone something you'd like to perfume your immediate surroundings with.
I could simply burn one of the incense sticks
and find out what it actually smells like, but to tell the truth, I'm too
scared. Maybe one day when I'm feeling particularly adventurous (or someone
I hate is visiting) I'll light one up and take a good whiff. Until then,
use your imagination.
Disclaimer- Michelle would like to apologize for her
use of the word 'umbrella' in the above review. Thank you.
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