Some day last week, I woke up from a strange dream of an erotic nature. It was vivid and nasty and with Kevin Smith. At one point in the dream, Kevin was pushing forward in that missionary position and he deposited a beef flavored dog pill in my throat. At that point, I choked in my dream as well as in real time. I woke up and could have sworn I could feel that damn pill still lodged in my esophagus. And it was all so erotic.
The rest of the day, I craved cinnamon rolls. I wanted a hot, gooey cinnamon roll. Hot from an oven with sticky sweet icing dripping down its sides. ALL FREAKING DAY LONG! And I was stuck at work without a way out into the real world to find it. I had a caramel roll from Wal-Mart a day or so later. Yeah, not the same thing. It turned me off for a few days. Today? I sure do want that cinnamon roll.
Here's my question: If I eat that cinnamon roll, will I get the Big O face too? Because now, hot cinnamon rolls are strictly tied to crazy, monkey sex with Kevin Smith.
POST NOTE: I just re-read that title and boy, that's just weird. It probably should have read, "Cinnamon Rolls and Hot Monkey Sex With Kevin Smith." Now it just implies "Rutting with Pastries."
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