November 28, 2011 · 2:11 pm
This is what I should ACTUALLY be saying when I order my Big Mac Meal with a side of Chicken Nuggets…
Hi, I would like to order the grime that is stuck to the bottom of the meat grinder which mostly consists of cow eyeballs and bull testes. Can I get that on a stale sesame seed bun with lettuce shreds and “secret” sauce that is probably a mixture of chunky spum and boogers from that guy over there with the unwashed hands. That special sauce tastes delicious.
I’d like to get the biggest side order of fries you have with that; since they are specially designed to keep fresh for months, if I don’t immediately get ass piss after eating, the french fries I will have eaten will remain freshly preserved in my gut for an indeterminate amount of time.
Also, I would like a large citrusy drink that in no way resembles fruit juice. It will contain enough sugar to waylay any diabetic seizure I may have.
Could I get a 4 piece side of cancerous chicken flesh that has been mushed together and breaded, please? No I do not require barbecue sauce.
November 28, 2011 · 8:44 am
Well, after the whole fiasco with my Rockstar last week about the “shitty jobs” I demean myself for, I am happy to report that I now possibly have options.
While I was still contemplating kicking his butt-headed ass to the curb, (technically I would have to be the one to leave) I perused Craigslist for any jobs that looked “worthy” of his praise. I ended up applying online for several, and am happy to report that I actually heard back from a few of them. Now, I was watching the news yesterday, and there seems to be a Craigslist killer out there somewhere. They have apprehended some suspects, but my Rockstar had better hope that his judgemental attitude doesn’t get me raped and chopped up into little pieces.
Anyhoo, when I was at work this weekend, my boss Frenchie and I had a discussion. It seems that we have less than stellar cooks employed with us, and I suggested that he fire their asses and hire me as a cook. Cooking is certainly not my final goal in life (I am still trying to figure out what that final goal would be) but if it will keep Frenchie from hiring some dumb asstard who can’t learn how to decorate a pizza, so be it. We then discussed the possibility of my becoming a manager, and Frenchie stated, “This is an excellent idea. I don’t know why I never thought of it before.” I know why. Because he was busy looking at my ass. 🙂
So, I begin training to cook this week, and I shall prove how completely adept I am. Then we’ shall see what happens from there. Then, when I am making millions and living on my yacht, I can look at my Rockstar and say, “See? You just had to have a little faith in me,”
November 28, 2011 · 7:06 am
Aright, My Lovelys. I will write something useful today. I seemed to get a surplus of comments from my little smut writings; however, I don’t want to entirely alienate my readers who won’t admit they liked it. (I know who you are)
Today I must share with you the amazing discovery that I made while I was at work last night. After working for a little over a month as a Pizza Slut, I have figured out that I shall never hunger. Especially since the cooks we have employed at my store tend to goof quite a bit. Not a day goes by at work when I am not surrounded by extra deliciousness such as cheesey breadsticks (awesome with ranch dressing), stuffed-crust pizza (also awesome with ranch dressing), and garlic bread. (not great without ranch.) Now, I’ve been informed by my Rockstar that excessive feedings of cheese and bread can wreak havoc on your digestional system, or in his words, “You won’t be able to shit for a week.” (What a way with words he has.) and my palate is getting…somewhat bored of pizza anyway. So yesterday, I decided to order a little thing called Hershey Dunkers. (or as I have renamed them, Hershey Orgasm.)
If you have never experienced these, I urge you right at this moment to call up your local Pizza Slut store and order some. Right now. Because you will not be sorry. I was a little bit skeptical at first, especially when the cook making my Orgasm said, “These are so gross, why would you want to order them?” She let me know her opinion was so strong simply because they are so rich and sweet. My mouth was watering as they made their way through the pizza oven, as the odor of melting chocolate permeated the entire store.
I will describe them for you. It is really just breadsticks, but instead of putting seasoning salt on top, they are doused in butter and then covered with crumbly Hershey chocolatey goodness. They come with dipping sauce, and are amazing.
The moment I took my first bite, I knew my world would never be the same. The melt-in-your-mouth scrumptiousness made me wonder how I could ever eat anything else ever again. I ordered a double order, intent on bringing some home for my Rockstar. There weren’t many left after I got done…
I see much chocolate and many pounds in my future.
Filed under Food, Humor, Life, Uncategorized, Work
Tagged as chocolate, dessert, Hershey, humor, life, orgasm, pizza slut