there's something in my fridge.......regret......and carrot sticks and my blow-up doll. what!? i have to keep the thing from melting somehow.
sex and food go together like.......well, food and sex, living and breathing.
pic 8 down from the top up above there reminds me of my new friend...
what is in my fridge:
1. anything alcoholic? beer, wine, champagne?: wine coolers, fucking strawberry and hard as hell. real men drink wine coolers. actually, i don't like bitter drinks, i have enough bitter inside me as it is, i need to balance the universe by consuming sweet liquids.
2. any guilty pleasures? anything chocolate? ice cream?: i don't consider any food and drink a guilty pleasure, it's necessary for this human to live. i mean, what's the point of going on if i can't have my Trix cereal and my shedload of cans of Monster Energy? i can't live in a world where i am denied the chance to be fruitalicious and speedballed like a motherfucker.
3. any really old bottles of condiments?: funny you should ask that, i have tons and tons of ketchup packets old and recently-old from In-N-Out Burger, Burger King, and McDonalds. i always get these packets included in my bags when i eat out, i don't ask for ketchup explicitly, it seems to be implied. don't get me wrong, i'm grateful for the sauce, but i always use my home ketchup instead, so i'm left with this large-ass plastic bag that now contains 800,000 ketchup packets and 1 relish.
4. frozen pizza? any other frozen quick dinners?: pizza, nom nom nom. i prefer hot, but i'll take cold, much like my sex habits. my favorite topping on pizza is pizza. i never got the extra cheese thing, are they ripping you off if you ask for normal cheese? i'm a bachelor, i have to eat frozen dinners, though sometimes i treat myself to a little cotton candy i make homemade in my backyard shed, secret ingredient, shhhh! don't tell anyone: moonshine. whether i'm chomping down on yellow ice---that's the macaroni-and-cheese gourmet meal, brown ice---that's the filet mignon, black ice---that's the roadkill special, some sort of, like, i dunno, meatloaf or something, i'm happy to be alive............i'm so fucking lonely, i need a wife to feed me properly.........
5. anything actually rotten or moldy?: my pride, my self-worth. as far as food, no, i'm surprisingly clean and well-kept in my kitchen mostly because i don't have a lot of food and drink to start with, so nothing lasts long enough to mold, except for that damn ketchup. i'm so fucking poor, i drink grape juice and pretend it's wine, i pretend i'm rich by making it rain Monopoly money in my den, i think eating hard salami makes me hard.
6. what do you have in your fridge that the rest of us probably don't?: well, the blow-up doll. okay, everyone has that, but does your blow-up doll speak to you in dulcet tones like mine does?
bonus: in Philip Roth's Portnoy's Complaint, the main character Alexander Portnoy masturbates using a liver steak and cored-out apple. have you ever masturbated with food?: damn, i missed that one English lecture in college, i was too busy trying to get my credits verified at the student center. dude helping me said he would only comply with my demands if i did a "Portnoy's Not Complaining Anymore" on his body. now i know what he meant.
bonus bonus: we're curious, how many phallic-shaped foods are in your refrigerator?: one, my penis-shaped bottle of cottage cheese. don't ask. okay, ask. well, the cottage cheese looks like...i tear a small hole into the bottletop with scissors, and...yeah...
i ate all the pickles and the carrots and the sweet potatoes and the celery. however, there are still the two radishes in the top drawer that look like my balls.
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