I slept a lot. 'Til 10am, anyway. That's late.
I ate quiche. That was traumatic. With every bite, I could feel my penis retracting into my body and a vagina growing in its place. Quiche is not for boys. It's for frail girls. Frail girls in pink, floral dresses with pigtails and little bows in their hair.
Fortunately, Star Wars came on the telly, to make me feel better. Star Wars is brilliant and only has one lady in it; although, if I lived in Star Wars, I'd probably avoid women, because statistically, they're all bitches. Take Princess Leia, for example (not that you have much choice cos she's the only woman in the galaxy - Luke used to have a nagging aunt, but she died):
Leia: Aren't you a little short for a Stormtrooper?
Luke: Well that's a bit offensive. I'm Luke Skywalker, I'm here to rescue you.
Leia: Who?
Luke: That's so rude, you ignorant bitch. I just told you who I was. Me and my buddies are risking our lives here rescuing you. I'm a murderer now, thanks to you. Oh, and I'm with Obi-Wan Kenobi.
Leia: To hell with you, shorty. Where's the old man?
The film continues with constant nagging and complaining and then there's some blatant anti-Wookie racism and then some bitching about the ship they came in.
And then at the end she thinks she can make it all better with a couple of medals and a winning smile. But continuing her theme of Wookie-hating, she gives everyone but Chewie a medal. Pff.
Anyway, after that we went to the Scottish household for dinner and a movie. Scotty makes much tastier veggie chilli than me. I suspect it's because he's not a retard in the kitchen like me.
Which brings me on to the title of this post, which I imagine has, until now seemed rather arbitrary and random.
Over dinner, we covered the topic of ice cream and sex and the use of ice cream during sex for something other than its original purpose.
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