Chef Boyardee LICIOUS
Today's lesson is about black magic and mystical powers. Listen closely for hidden clues -- read it backwards if you want. I don't give a crap.
Drunk Me: oh man, I have a big can of Chef Boyardee Ravioli sitting on my counter screaming my name.
Random Hipster Chick: Dude, that's gross. That stuff will kill you.
Drunk Me: YOU'RE gross -- I should kill YOU!
Random Hipster Chick: I'm not gross.
Drunk Me: Well you certainly aren't a magical, pasty, boneless meat substance all snorggled in a wonderfully slimy dough sleeping bag, bathing in a pool of tomatoey lubricatey deliciousness just begging to to be slid down my throat only partially chewed.
Random Hipster Chick: That was the grossest, most accurate description of Chef Boyardee Ravioli I have ever heard.
Drunk Me: Whoa weird, your sister's name is Chef Boyardee Ravioli? I was just TALKING ABOUT EATING SOME OF THAT!
Brothers and sisters, eat what you like. Life is better short and delicious than long and ravioliless.
WHITE POWER!
Amen.
Now Christy:
That's all for now.
Don't get caught having a conversation with yourself and naming the other half Random Hipster Chick.
Your Cat's Favorite Half Dead Mouse,
JonBenet Ramsey



