So Churl sends me an email about having to buy a bridal shower cake and finds a horrific x-rated photo of one. I demand that she make it, and suggest she use her husband as a model. She writes back and says “he already did” and attaches a photo.
I’m thinking ‘god damn it’, if she sent me a photo of her husband’s “area”, I’m actually going to be pissed. But I open, and can’t believe what I am seeing!!
Churl’s having a chicken.
People, get it straight. There is only one true condiment. Mustard. Not the fancy farty kind with the seeds and shit, just good old plain yellow mustard.
The following is a list of condiments that make me barf:
I used to hate ketchup just as much, but over the years, I have been able to eat it with fries. NOTHING else. And I mean NOTHING else. Not on hamburgers, hotdogs, meatloaf, eggs (why must you teach our children that, husband?).
Great mustard moments in literature:
His wit as thick as Tewesbury mustard. (Meaning gross, because good mustard is NOT thick.)
Louis XI kept his own pot of mustard with him most of the time, ostensibly to keep him well prepared when he dropped in on friends unannounced. (Hell yeah, Lou-dog.)
Of course, not all people share my love of the ‘turd. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K8IJpDGRa5o. The best part is the 3-second shower scene at the end.
In closing, I will share with you that it WAS Colonel Mustard in the Conservatory with the candlestick.
