I am going to marry Wendy’s Fix & Mix Frostys with M&Ms. I love everything about them. There’s chocolate. There’s cold creamy goodness on your tongue. There’s hunks of M&Ms. It’s soft, it’s lovely, it’s delicious.
I would write it a little love poem like this:
Oh Fix & Mix Frosty, you’re for me.
I love you more than a cat loves a tree.
I love you more than men like to pee.
Oh, Fix & Mix Frosty, you’re for me.
And I would set that poem to music and sing it for Fix & Mix Frosty every night just before it drifted off to sleep.
I have a question, since we’re talking about unnatural urges and food, and I’m guessing that between Coble, NM, and Bridgett, one of you is going to know.
You know Peter, Peter Pumpkin-Eater (Peter, Peter Pumpkin-Eater. Had a wife and couldn’t keep her. Put her in a pumpkin shell and there he kept her very well.)? Is it true that this is a nursery rhyme about a man who enjoys oral sex, but eventually finds that knocking his wife up is the only way to keep her from running around on him?