Karen’s been in town this weekend so her, Brigitte and I have been able to have Pud dinners (if you are unsure why I refer to us as the Puds, don’t worry, it’s completely innocent).
So we’re at Banderas living it up with drinks and the best corn bread on the planet. I have the apple-spiced barbecue pork tenderloin with mashed potatoes and they each have a slab of prime rib.
The time for desert comes and, of course, who are we to say no? So we decide to share the Oreo ice cream sandwiches and the banana cream pie.
The pie was fantastic and caused one of us to say:
I want to stand and have this banana cream pie poured on my naked body.
It was then explained that you can detail how much you love a type of food by what you would like to do to your body with said food. I’m not going to name names but after that one of us said:
I would take this pie up the butt. And I don’t even like that that much.
After I wiped the tears of laughter from my eyes, we tried to argue how you might anally proposition a slice of banana cream pie. We weren’t sure who is the top or the bottom. The logistics were to be figured out at a later date.
I think I would have slithered across the floor blindfolded and handcuffed to eat the pie with my face, while an audience watched.
I have the strangest friends. The best part is this conversation would have happened even if we were stone-cold sober.
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