“New Rule: Don’t shit where you eat. But everything else is up for grabs. Even the subway. I took a dump the other day. It felt good! And yes, I know it was in public. Why did I do it? Because I can. Can you? Probably not. So before you go analyzing my anal activities, why don’t you face up to the fact that you’re. Just. Jealous. There, I said it. And you know it’s true. You just can’t stand someone with as much self respect as I have doing my routine wherever I please. Like a king. You know, there are bathrooms for a reason. For the rest of society. I, for one, will not lower myself to being one of you. And for those who have enough respect to ask how it was, I’ll tell you. It was big, wet, and flaccid. Okayyy.”
Al: “Peggy. You know I work for a living. I have enough women bothering me all day to not need you spreading your legs every damn day. I’m just trying to watch cops and eat a sandwich.”
Al opens his pants and takes a big bite of a giant sandwich
Peggy: “Well then. Do something about it big boy.”
Al: “Peggy. What do you want me to... Wait a moment.”
Al goes into deep thought in a dream-like focus
Al thinks to himself: “That pansy down the road that offers his wife to fat guys. He found the secret to life. That’s my way out!”
Al comes back to reality and the image of his turned-on wife disturbs him. He shakes noticeably at the look of her.
Al: “Peggy. I’ve got it. I’m a cuck. That’s who I am. You’re gonna have to get used to it.”
Peggy: “Al you’re not fooling me. I’ve never seen you get aroused by other men looking at me.”
Al realizes that he better sound convincing or his plan might be ruined.
Al: “Peggy. Nothing gets me more turned on than the thought of watching another man romp with you in our bed. I can barely hold the excitement. I’m gonna have to go sit down and eat before I get too hot.”
Al takes a bite of his sandwich while fantasizing about drinking beer in his underwear in peace while his wife is being distracted by someone else.
After a night out “with the boys”, Danny attracts a lady and she comes back to the house with them.
Danny: “Alright guys. We’re gonna call it a night. Thanks for a night to remember.”
Jesse: “You kids play nice. And remember. No funny business. I’ll see you two love birds tomorrow.”
Danny: “I thought I’d put on some tunes to keep the buzz going. Marvin Gaye? Or are you feeling freaky? Primus?
Sandy: “Danny. Just get over here and embrace me already.”
Danny: Don’t mind if I do.
The show gives the impression that they’re in the midst of a sexual act. Danny is behind her.
Sandy: “Danny you’re quite the cowboy. You seem so reserved on Wake Up San Francisco. I like this Danny!”
In a moment of panic to keep the excitement and allure going, knowing he can’t hold it any longer, Danny leans over and whispers to her in a near orgasm cadence, “let the wind take it”. He proceeds to show his wild side by carelessly clearing his urethra in a quivering swiveling fashion on the nearest wall.
The scene opens up with Joey and Jesse repainting Danny’s room.
“New rule: Ladies. If you like what you see, you better get in line. Saying no to raisins has revamped more than just my weight. I smell better! It turns out that only fat people eat oatmeal raisin cookies and rum raisin ice cream for dinner and midnight dinner. Apparently, they do little for your pits, dick, and tits. Now I eat steak like Jordan Peterson and the only thing thick on me is my shaft rocket. So please, stop acting like you’re the hot one in this interaction. You know you can’t wait to get a whiff. And If you want me to welcome you with open arms, I have one request. Blow your nose first. I want you to savor the moment. Don’t waste my time. Okayyy.”
“It was 6:30 in the morning and I was navigating a stormy sea of milk in a frosty bowl of Raisin Bran. Life is what you make it, not what you’re given. ‘Don’t eat the raisins!’ I screamed to myself as I avoided every last one of those sweet icebergs. ‘Keep going’, I whispered into the bowl as I chewed fiercely through the fiber of war. Another crunch. Another munch. It sounded like thunder and sodomy. Yet, just a typical day for a savage like myself. This is not pasta. This is real life. This is bran. Not only did I have to dodge the floating raisins but waves of milk were on the horizon. At one point, my spoon moved too aggressively and a platoon of milk spilled over the side of the bowl. The table was a casualty I had to accept. Victory was still within my grasp as
I held the dry side of the bowl and drank the milk straight, filtering out all raisins that seeked entry with my clenched teeth. I added more sugar to weather the storm. Anything to give a glimpse of hope. It worked. A smile returned to my face. ‘I can do this!’ I pleaded to myself. A drop of milk landed on my cheek from the air. Ah! Enemy fire. In a fleeting moment of weakness, I had the thought of surrender. That faded quickly like flatulence during a hike. ‘I will not be a turncoat!’ I scowled into the brisk air. My instincts kicked in. I needed back up. Grabbing another spoon, I double fisted bran and milk into my face. Not stopping until victory emerged. Sensing the battle was over, I stopped and looked at what was left of the war zone. A bowl of milk bogged raisins. This is what men are made of, I thought to myself. I’m not just a man though. I am a conqueror. I stuck to my word and no raisins were consumed. Savage yes. But one with morality. That is I. To all the onlookers that think this was easy, let it be known that humble men make difficult tasks look like eating cake. And this certainly was not cake. I leave you today with this poignant bit of wisdom: Some joke about crying over spilled milk, but they have not seen the face of war. Be well.”
“Eric. What you heard should not be uttered to the one you love. The stars of heaven do not look upon nature with disgust. Therefore, you should realize the true beauty in a queef. It is not something to be looked down upon nor is it something to hope for, expect, and put on a pedestal. It is like a rain storm. We may not ask for it, but how beautiful it can be when it thunders. Like a sunset on the ocean, queef queef, in the midst of a coral reef. Thou knows himself by knowing the waves of a woman. ‘Tis not the stars that lead the way in love but the sparkle in her eyes. A queef is the sound of the sparkle of life. Treasure it. Cherish it. But don’t ever try to find it because that will always seem creepy.”
“I bought a bag of cheese the other day. It was mozzarella. A small bag of organic shredded. Five dollars. Cash. On the surface, no big deal. Look at the fine print though. Part skim! What? Am I reading that right? Part skim! Ah! Wow. I thought to myself. I was duped. What losers are we? We buy something and don’t even realize we’re being scammed because we go with an empty stomach. It’s wisdom straight out of a Buddhist Temple but I was using the mindset of a frat boy. You can’t always go through life rudderless. Here’s how to solve that. Eat yourself fat before going into a grocery store. It’s the only way to not give a rats ass about desire. Get gross to go grocery shopping is what I say now. Eat a steak. And then have a few more bites. Eat until you hate your retched life and are questioning your decisions. A pauper has no business in a King’s Castle. If you’re horny enough, dancing is no longer dancing. It’s a battle to make your boner less obvious. Wisdom comes when you have nothing left to c*m. The same goes for having room to eat. Get full. Pray. And then maybe you won’t buy a sack of scam milk. I payed full price dammit! I didn’t expect to see that some of the ingredients were swapped with filler milk. You know what I did? I shoved it all down the toilet. I had to. What purpose did it have if it was going to be, excuse me for my language, dry as friggen f*ck?! I had to call a plumber after and explain to him why I did it in the first place. Do you know how hard it is to talk cheese, wisdom, and principles with someone that won’t even pull up their britches? It was a mess.”
It was a quiet autumn night, and I started to gain a bit of an appetite. With my crappy work schedule seldom allowing me to see my friends, and the word crappy might be a wrong choice of adjectives here, I'll explain later. I decided to go grab some chow at Arby's by myself. I got in my car with the windows down, the tunes lightly playing in the background, and the calm smooth wind playing their sweet crisp audible waves in my eardrums. When I got there several minutes later, I ordered food and sat down in the dining room. I had nowhere to go, and nothing to do, so why not eat there. I was the only person there, until she walked in. She was a smokeshow. A brick house. A masterpiece. And albeit, she was dining in too! She sat a few tables over and started eating her food. We kinda kept giving once overs on each other, without trying to get caught. I knew I had to try and do something. I had
nothing to lose, which juxtaposes eating at Arby's by yourself. I went over and she gracefully let me sit and eat with her. We laughed and had good conversation. Arbys was going to close soon, so we made our way to the parking lot. The events in that parking lot took quite a turn. We got in my car, listened to music, and kept chatting, until things got a little steamy. We started making out, and one thing lead to... Let's say not another, but something other. She tells me to get in my back seat. We both lunge in the back and I think ‘just the action I needed’. But, she pulls my pants off and doesn't reciprocate. She begins polishing my chassis, if you will, and then tells me to get on all fours and spread my buns. She begins licking the brown creamy center. And let's not forget it was still a warm, yet cool, autumn night. I also hogged down 3 Beef 'N Cheddars at Arby's right
before. Swamp ass and Arby’s stomach don't always result in one’s favor. She tickled my taint and asshole to the point of release. And I don't mean from my meat, just like the kind Arby's has. I farted in her mouth, and it was wet, loud, and gave no mercy. She cursed at me very profusely, ran out of the car, and stormed off in hers. I never knew what happened to her. But Kelce, if you ever read this, it was a magical night I'll never forget, and maybe we can consider going to a Panera Bread instead and try going all the way after we eat.
“I never said bitch make me a sandwich. I said there’s bread, bacon, and beer in the kitchen, could you bring me some dinner? Way different. But in our society, things get reinterpreted and intention gets misconstrued. It turns out, she was a bitch. But I never said that at the time. I am saying it now though. If you don’t know the backstory, it was my friend’s wife. We were relaxing after a hard game of Scrabble and I thought it was normal to ask for some food. It was 7:30 in the damn evening and to be honest, I needed a drink. Anyway, she asked if there was anything else I required. I said, well yes, a little pep in your step if you don’t mind. That was all it took to her to call me a misogynist. I deserve better treatment. Frankly, I deserve dinner. A sandwich if you will.”
“New Rule: If you don’t want to f*ck me... and let’s be real. Who does? Can you at least buy me a burger? I go out of my way to walk up to you after my paynus (penis) gets the giggle and the wiggle and the best you can do is get disgusted? Listen. I don’t need your dusty, never do well vagina to have a good life. I have The Food Network and Pork Rinds. And if you do invite me over, please don’t get weird if I ask to see your leftovers. Why do you think I was staring at your ass? It’s a tell all sign. Big ass, big fridge. And you know you’re not going to eat it all anyway. So please... stop pretending you don’t like a man that can eat his weight in food. You’re not all that and a bag of chips, but if you are I’ll take the chips. It’ll go well with the burger. Okayyy.”