The Glory of...?
by the Juice
You're probably wonderin' who on the Christ's blue planet "FC" is. I don't blame you for that wonderin'. However today's edition of “The Glory of…” isn't so much about "who", than "what". I know I usually use this platform to speak of hot chicks. Today, though, is the exception. I’d like to speak on somethin' that is, in many cases, as fine as a sexy piece of ass in a bikini. And just as often as fleetin'. I am speakin' of…Funnel Cake!
Yes, fried dough! Three words: Pure Genius. I'd like to offer a hummer from the missus to the man who thought about applyin' the batter to hot oil. However, I don't believe I'm authorized to make such an offer. I usually don't do this this early in an article, but, I must digress.
I was watchin' television the other night. It was late, the missus was sleepin' on the sofa. A commercial for the International House of Pancakes (what the hell is that all about? who the hell thought that name up? International House of Pancakes? i guess it’s suppose to make the place sound more “classy”? i think I’d rather go to the International House of Ill Repute) came on. For a moment, I thought I was buggin'. Turns out, for once, I wasn't. This commercial featured a new “breakfast”. It was funnel cake with all sorts of weird and wonderful toppins! Not that I’m complain’ here or anything but the ol’ International House has got nerve passin' this little slice of heaven off as breakfast. They might as well bring you out a bowl full of chocolate chip cookies with milk and call that breakfast. I know what you’re thinkin’. You’re thinkin’ “Hey, the Juice. It does sound a lot like your complainin’”. And I’d answer “Go fuck yourself. Remember, you’re readin' MY article. I ain’t readin' your oh so entertainin' post about Funnel Cake. Until then, I stand by my statement. Go fuck yourself." Besides, all's I’m sayin' is that funnel cake is not the breakfast of champions.
Anyway, I jumped on the couch to wake the missus up. “Look honey…IHOP has funnel cake!” After cursin' for a few seconds and pushin' me off the sofa, she realized the full implications of a funnel cake breakfast. The missus is a bigger funnel caker than I am. I would call her a funnel cake whore, but there’s a possibility she might read this. And I certainly don’t need another knock to the noggin with the meat tenderizer. Besides, I’m lookin’ to get laid sometime within 2005.
When we were at Disney World we spotted a place that sold funnel cake, to our surprise, in the Magic Kingdom. We were a little busy at the time(you know. the four kids reakin' their special kind of havoc on the place). I told the missus to remind me about the funnel cake later. I figured we’d go back and get some before we left the park . Well the missus did remind me. Two and a half fuck months later. Specifically right after the IHOP commercial came on. Dang! Again, if I wasn’t lookin' for some action I might’ve knocked her teeth out (hey! i don’t advocate violence against women. that ain’t right! i’m just speakin’ metaphorically, here. i sometimes advocate violence against small dogs. small dogs named Snowflake. small dogs named Snowflake that have a penchant for whizzin’ all over your trailer. small dogs named Snowflake that not only whiz all over your trailer, but on your prized porno collection. i swear to the Christ, if i catch that dog whizzin’ again, i’m gonna BBQ him. don’t even think about it PETA. i’m just fucking around. i don’t even like hot dogs. i love funnel cake!)
Although I could write for days how funnel cake is humanity’s only redeemin' quality, I’m gonna leave you with one final image. I’m not sure if it leaves me more hungry or more horny at that moment. Fuck it. I’m gonna crank it while eatin' some funnel cake. Think I’m a fool? See for yourself. And don’t be surprised if you find you're touchin' yourself…
You're probably wonderin' who on the Christ's blue planet "FC" is. I don't blame you for that wonderin'. However today's edition of “The Glory of…” isn't so much about "who", than "what". I know I usually use this platform to speak of hot chicks. Today, though, is the exception. I’d like to speak on somethin' that is, in many cases, as fine as a sexy piece of ass in a bikini. And just as often as fleetin'. I am speakin' of…Funnel Cake!
Yes, fried dough! Three words: Pure Genius. I'd like to offer a hummer from the missus to the man who thought about applyin' the batter to hot oil. However, I don't believe I'm authorized to make such an offer. I usually don't do this this early in an article, but, I must digress.
I was watchin' television the other night. It was late, the missus was sleepin' on the sofa. A commercial for the International House of Pancakes (what the hell is that all about? who the hell thought that name up? International House of Pancakes? i guess it’s suppose to make the place sound more “classy”? i think I’d rather go to the International House of Ill Repute) came on. For a moment, I thought I was buggin'. Turns out, for once, I wasn't. This commercial featured a new “breakfast”. It was funnel cake with all sorts of weird and wonderful toppins! Not that I’m complain’ here or anything but the ol’ International House has got nerve passin' this little slice of heaven off as breakfast. They might as well bring you out a bowl full of chocolate chip cookies with milk and call that breakfast. I know what you’re thinkin’. You’re thinkin’ “Hey, the Juice. It does sound a lot like your complainin’”. And I’d answer “Go fuck yourself. Remember, you’re readin' MY article. I ain’t readin' your oh so entertainin' post about Funnel Cake. Until then, I stand by my statement. Go fuck yourself." Besides, all's I’m sayin' is that funnel cake is not the breakfast of champions.
Anyway, I jumped on the couch to wake the missus up. “Look honey…IHOP has funnel cake!” After cursin' for a few seconds and pushin' me off the sofa, she realized the full implications of a funnel cake breakfast. The missus is a bigger funnel caker than I am. I would call her a funnel cake whore, but there’s a possibility she might read this. And I certainly don’t need another knock to the noggin with the meat tenderizer. Besides, I’m lookin’ to get laid sometime within 2005.
When we were at Disney World we spotted a place that sold funnel cake, to our surprise, in the Magic Kingdom. We were a little busy at the time(you know. the four kids reakin' their special kind of havoc on the place). I told the missus to remind me about the funnel cake later. I figured we’d go back and get some before we left the park . Well the missus did remind me. Two and a half fuck months later. Specifically right after the IHOP commercial came on. Dang! Again, if I wasn’t lookin' for some action I might’ve knocked her teeth out (hey! i don’t advocate violence against women. that ain’t right! i’m just speakin’ metaphorically, here. i sometimes advocate violence against small dogs. small dogs named Snowflake. small dogs named Snowflake that have a penchant for whizzin’ all over your trailer. small dogs named Snowflake that not only whiz all over your trailer, but on your prized porno collection. i swear to the Christ, if i catch that dog whizzin’ again, i’m gonna BBQ him. don’t even think about it PETA. i’m just fucking around. i don’t even like hot dogs. i love funnel cake!)
Although I could write for days how funnel cake is humanity’s only redeemin' quality, I’m gonna leave you with one final image. I’m not sure if it leaves me more hungry or more horny at that moment. Fuck it. I’m gonna crank it while eatin' some funnel cake. Think I’m a fool? See for yourself. And don’t be surprised if you find you're touchin' yourself…
Yes, I believe that’s orange creamsicle ice cream on that funnel cake. Oh, I think I just came…
posted by the Juice at 8:23 PM
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