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Some burps just happen naturally and discreetly like sneezes. Others – usually the mightier ones – we have to work out of our system by invoking them from a far deeper and altogether darker place. Thinking I was alone this afternoon, I was in the middle of summoning Conan the Barbarian from the caverns of my stomach when my girlfriend suddenly appeared and unknowingly leaned over and kissed me on the lips. I roared a knee wobbling burp – she kissed me. Let’s say it was a mutual shock!
DT
Filed under: being alive, comedy, comedy writing, culture, humour, life, opinion, perspective, philosophy, random, society, stupid thoughts, thought for the day, thoughts | Tags: being alive, comedy, comedy writing, culture, food, humour, ice cream, life, literary journalism, opinion, perspective, philosophy, random, random stuff, society, stupid, stupid thoughts, thought for the day, weirdos
Have you ever met anyone who doesn’t like ice cream? Who the hell doesn’t like ice cream? Are these people even worth knowing! Put them into the same slush pile as those freaks who don’t like chocolate or chips.
I am an ardent lover of chips and chocolate, but give me ice cream or take away my soul. It’s a genetic inheritance on my father’s side of the family. My dad eats ice cream by the tub in one sitting. Then again, the man can eat three layers of a biscuit tin in an afternoon. I ask you – at what stage does a man become a glutton. Ask any kid whether their father eats Kilimanjaro-size Sunday roast dinners each week, and the answer much be found in fatherhood. Fathers are obviously hungrier than the fatherless. All that running around playing soccer in the garden and constructing mail order trampolines on a Sunday afternoon builds an appetite that only a tub of ice cream can satiate.
In admittance my own ice cream addiction, the discovery of Ben & Jerry was a milestone on the vanilla pod highway. There is nothing B&J have done with ensembles of food that the rest of the confectionary industry hasn’t already done. They just did it with the king pin of all delightful sweet things – ice cream. Things have distinctly never been the same again. Their ice cream appeals to the child in all of us – cookie dough straight from momma’s wooden spoon. Ohmygod… I am ten years old again buried in the cloth of my momma’s gingham apron lost in the oblivion of a cookie dough rainforest. Here’s the deal – If you don’t like ice cream, than you were denied a childhood. I will feel sorry for you whilst I lick my spoon and excavate great chunks of chocolate pieces from my tub. Get a life!
DT
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Brain cells, brain cells. I’m sick of hearing about how clever and efficient the brain cells are. When it comes down to efficiency, you can’t beat the anus cell for work ethic.
All biological cells in the human body are universal and define themselves and their job by those cells around them. They all contain the required elements to determine what they should become and apply themselves accordingly. Isn’t that amazing? This means each and every cell is capable of doing anything it’s asked to do. If you’re assigned to work downstairs in the rusty bullet hole then you’re an anus cell. If you’re in the left ear shoveling earwax then you’re an ear cell – simple.
What a utilitarian paradise our bodies are. There’s work for all; no unemployment; no need for unions; one wage for all; and no need for holiday leave. Our cells do everything they’re asked without any tea breaks and never complain about the long hours. The brain is the boss, and would probably have a large human resources section where all new cells report for their first day at work. A new young cell turns up for his first day at work in his dad’s suit with clean socks on. The conversation would go something like this:
New Cell: Hello. I am a new cell reporting for work today.
Human Resources Cell Manager: Hello young cell. You are to report to the supervisor in the Anus this morning. Do you know how to get there?
New Cell: Yes. I know a blood cell that is car pooling and is leaving on the jugular express this morning for the Anus.
New Cell (later that morning): Hello Anus Cell Supervisor, I am a new cell reporting for work.
New Cell Supervisor: Yes, good morning son. Please get into that astronaut suit over there and go to the Svinkter where there’s a pile of brussel spouts that need turning into shit.
… And that’s his job for seven years. Every seven years, each of the trillions of cells in your body will replace themselves, so this little anus cell will drop dead at work and a new one fills his boots silently and automatically on a continuous basis until you eventually drop dead.
We could all learn a thing or two from the Anus cell about efficiency at work.
DT
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Everything you buy goes in a plastic bag. If you bought a plastic bag it would go into a plastic bag!
