05-13-2011, 10:26 PM
Hate: Mc'donalds.
So here I am all fancied up and shit, showing up to this guy I met's place. I walk in there and he says the mother of all turn ons. "Let's order Mcdonalds."
Now I know what your thinking. You can order Mc'donalds? Wtf!? I was thinking the same thing. But apparently you can in some areas, and they will deliver it as well. As if wanting to eat greasy shit wasn't bad enough, you don't actually have to move to get it.
Now, first bite of my Big Mac sends a ripple of nausia through my body. Don't know if it's my body rejecting it like some form of disease or what, but my tummy sure wasn't happy. Not caring I gobble down on that shit like a fifty dolla' hooker, even finishing off the fries and coke zero.
Flash forward 20 minutes later and I'm trading mud ducks with the couch cushins, blaming it on his dog the entire time. Who, speaking of which, is staring at me as if to say "You bitch, leave me alone, I'm old."
Needless to say by this point my stomach is doing front flips by this point, and I ask to use the bathroom to "freshen up." Entering the bathroom I flip on the radio and within moments I'm becoming a christian. Paint it litterly peeling off of the walls at this point as I am spraying as much febreeze into the room as one person can breath. I still don't know if I'm going to die from poisoning.
I swear to god at this point I had done enough carpet bombing that his next door resident was having flashbacks of 'nam. At this point I am litteraly biting into the handle of a toothbrush to silence myself. The entire time I see the clown from It cackling in the corner, which scares me because I hate clowns. I realise that I have litteraly have lost more water then the human body can contain at this point so I drink from the tap all fallout style, lapping it down like I love it as much as the guy from Man vs Wild likes his own pee.
Regardless after what seemed like forever, and my butt hurting like three catholic boys after sunday school, I manage to finish. Feeling completely unfabulous I convince him to let me take a shower through some snappy handiwork and clever thinking. Realizing I didn't want my hands anywhere towards my rear at this point, I do the only thing that seems reasonable at the time. I use his gnawed on (by me), toothbrush to clean myself until I am confortable enough to use my hands.
Once I get out of the shower I flush what looks like a the remains of a aborted fetus hidden under toilet paper down the toilet and toss his toothbrush out of the window into the alley. After I get out I notice that he is "rearin" to go, and realize that all my animilistic noises, the long time, and the shower, gave the wrong signals. So I made up a excuse and got out of there.
End Result: IBS + Zero grease tolerance + Mc'donalds = Horrible Date
So here I am all fancied up and shit, showing up to this guy I met's place. I walk in there and he says the mother of all turn ons. "Let's order Mcdonalds."
Now I know what your thinking. You can order Mc'donalds? Wtf!? I was thinking the same thing. But apparently you can in some areas, and they will deliver it as well. As if wanting to eat greasy shit wasn't bad enough, you don't actually have to move to get it.
Now, first bite of my Big Mac sends a ripple of nausia through my body. Don't know if it's my body rejecting it like some form of disease or what, but my tummy sure wasn't happy. Not caring I gobble down on that shit like a fifty dolla' hooker, even finishing off the fries and coke zero.
Flash forward 20 minutes later and I'm trading mud ducks with the couch cushins, blaming it on his dog the entire time. Who, speaking of which, is staring at me as if to say "You bitch, leave me alone, I'm old."
Needless to say by this point my stomach is doing front flips by this point, and I ask to use the bathroom to "freshen up." Entering the bathroom I flip on the radio and within moments I'm becoming a christian. Paint it litterly peeling off of the walls at this point as I am spraying as much febreeze into the room as one person can breath. I still don't know if I'm going to die from poisoning.
I swear to god at this point I had done enough carpet bombing that his next door resident was having flashbacks of 'nam. At this point I am litteraly biting into the handle of a toothbrush to silence myself. The entire time I see the clown from It cackling in the corner, which scares me because I hate clowns. I realise that I have litteraly have lost more water then the human body can contain at this point so I drink from the tap all fallout style, lapping it down like I love it as much as the guy from Man vs Wild likes his own pee.
Regardless after what seemed like forever, and my butt hurting like three catholic boys after sunday school, I manage to finish. Feeling completely unfabulous I convince him to let me take a shower through some snappy handiwork and clever thinking. Realizing I didn't want my hands anywhere towards my rear at this point, I do the only thing that seems reasonable at the time. I use his gnawed on (by me), toothbrush to clean myself until I am confortable enough to use my hands.
Once I get out of the shower I flush what looks like a the remains of a aborted fetus hidden under toilet paper down the toilet and toss his toothbrush out of the window into the alley. After I get out I notice that he is "rearin" to go, and realize that all my animilistic noises, the long time, and the shower, gave the wrong signals. So I made up a excuse and got out of there.
End Result: IBS + Zero grease tolerance + Mc'donalds = Horrible Date