I was going to write about my favorite Thanksgiving, but I had a dream last night of such profound importance that I decided that I needed to write about that instead. It’s all about flexibility, people. I dreamed I was at a Magic Mike type strip club with my sister.
Ahem. Yes. Let’s just revisit that line again and then move forward.
I dreamed I was at a Magic Mike type strip club with my sister. Only I didn’t feel like I could go there and wave dollar bills. That felt too dirty. So instead, I brought sheets and sheets of cake balls that I had infused with liquor. I handed them out to all the ladies and screamed: “It’s Drunken Cake Balls, y’all!”
The women pounced on those balls like they were…uhm…liquor infused chocolate cake balls…while the half-naked men watched in horror. Really. The music stopped and those men just stood there, their male bits tenderly cradled in pleather swaying slightly in the breeze caused by mad women shoving cake balls in their faces.
Then I woke up. Slightly aroused. But not because of the strippers. It was all the Drunken Cake Balls, y’all.
That’s gotta be a thing, right?