Are You Going to Eat That?
I don't get out much. It shows. Last night we watched Superbad. I enjoyed it, it was a sweet story about friendship. Of course, if you have seen it, you will know the flick of from the type of realist school of movie making which requires the use of abundant profanity and references to genitalia. Which brings me, ineluctably, to the point of this ppost.
One of the main characters describes a problem he had as a youth. He was obsessd with drawing penises. Penis as Michalangelo's David, General Macarthur, what have you. As part of his treatment he was forbidden from eating "food that looks like cocks" and "all the best" foods look that way.
Fair enough. I'll admit to occasional discomfort when viewing people eating bananas, european weiners, Twix. I can't help it. I see the connection. I don't care if the smokie is a sublimated knob - I'm smothering it with mustard and sucking that thing back!
My problem today is* wondering: what do you do if you encounter a cock that looks like food?**
PMO
* Inter alia.
** Like pizza.
Labels: superlovin mceverer
2 Comments:
Try to smother your icked-out-edness? Or perhaps try not to bite too hard? Oh, blech. Seriously p-man, it's a fuin trip to read, but I have to say I am so glad I don't live in your head!
I'm ok, really.
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