Rachel and I always talk about how there are two kinds of people in this world–those who suck dick and those who do not. And then last night over the phone in a vodka fueled conversation (remind me to go check Melissa’s blog later. I may or may not have left a vodka fueled comment there. I don’t remember. Actually, let me do it now. Hold on a second…actually, it’s fine. I don’t have to kill myself. Today.), we made an addendum to that rule. There are now two more kinds of people in this world, Queefies.
Those who eat frosting, and those who don’t.
I have no use for people who don’t eat the frosting with the cake (unless they are willing to give me their frosting and then I can tolerate them) (maybe).
My mother-in-law and my sister-in-law scrape all the frosting off and just eat the dry cake and when I look at them like they’ve lost their everlovin’ minds, one of them says something like “frosting is too rich for me. It’s too sweet.”
(Did you read that in a prissy voice in your head because that’s how I meant it. If you didn’t, you should go back and re-do it because it’s way better if you crinkle up your nose and do it prissy.)
(See? That was better wasn’t it?)
And just so you know, my mother is a badass. She just opens up a can of frosting and has at it. No cake required. Fuck the dumb shit.
And don’t get me wrong, Queefies. I love The Marcy and The Cya and everything, but my relationship with them will always be flawed and we’ll never truly understand each other because really?
The Fuck are you eating cake for if you don’t like frosting? Go have an apple, ass. And pass that fucking cake over this way because I can’t stand to watch you mutilate it like that. Why don’t you just take a shit on it too?
So tell me Queefies, and be honest.
Do you scrape the frosting off your cake (like a bitch), or do you punch your grandmother in the neck for the corner piece with the rose on it?
(You realize your answer to this question could get you banned from this blog, right?)