Occasionally I'll suddenly, and for no reason other than the fact that God hates me, be reminded of some savage boy whose tongue I allowed to enter my mouth in a moment of insanity drunkenness absolute and utter mental and moral disintegration - and the memory alone will force me to violently barf all over my keyboard/steering wheel/bible tabloid magazine/self.
I find it is better if these heinous flashbacks occur after I've eaten say... a scoop of ice cream or a bowl of applesauce - rather than a ginoromus bag of Ruffles potato chips.
You know, because Ruffles have ridges.
Ouch.
