Try the ribs, not the red velvet cake
Why do so many people (women and gay men) compare eating something delicious with going to Heaven—I don’t get it.
“You’ve got to try this red velvet cake Mary…you’ll think you died and went to Heaven!”
I never feel like I died and went anywhere after eating, let alone Heaven.
In fact, I don’t recall ever hearing any of my friends recommend eating something so delicious that I’d die and go to Heaven afterwards—my friends say things like; Dude—if you’re going to the Pork Palace, order the babyback ribs…they’re the shit!
I think guys may have this one right. (the shit part, that is)
I’m not going to Heaven after eating unless I have a massive coronary, right there, on the spot.
The only place I’m headed after a major wolfing is my recliner, where I will promptly swell up like a tick and feel like shit…sitting there lamenting over how I ate too much—hating myself all the while for doing so.
Not hungry now,
Diego J Serrano