Before I was a blogger Moo and Too introduced me to Rule 34 of the internet.
Rule 34 states that ‘If it exists there is p0rn of it’
Rule 35 is ‘If no p0rn is found of it, it will be created’
And fuck me dead, they are right.
Going through my freakazoid searches, 90% of them are p0rn related.
Super Mario Brothers, cubbies, just the mention of Mummy, Daddy, son or any family member, the name of my freaking BLOG, and my beloved Clinkers brings out the freaky in the internet.
And Mario Porn Star (MPS). Shit, THAT has got the dirty little bastards in a lather.
Come to think of it ‘lather’ is going to bring more of ’em I expect.
So poor little innocent me went and Googled these searches. Thinking that surely there cannot be anything sexual about the innocent Clinker…… except perhaps the rapture I feel while delicately sucking the chocolate off to reveal my one true love. The green clinker…… *swoon*
Ahem. Sorry ’bout that.
According to the Urban Dictionary a Clinker is, amongst other things, a piece of shit stuck to your arse hairs and solidified. Somewhat like a dag on a sheep. Tasty.
I can deal with that.
‘ a chocolate coated candy treat for inserting in one’s anus so that they may derive sexual pleasure’
What the fuck?
No. No no no no no!
That is just wrong people! WRONG! I mean, yes, it is a chocolate coated candy treat. But the rest just makes me want to vomit back up the half bag of those orgasmic little morsels. You don’t need to shove them up your arse to reach orgasm! Shit, just putting a packet in my TROLLEY (it is a trolley, not a CART, Fab) sends my knees a quivering.
‘Clean up in aisle 3!’
So in order to educate the internets and Fab, Diesel, Iceel, Beth, Jen, Ree, Maddy and all the other lovelies that have not been given the pleasure of sampling the wonders of the clinker (perhaps I should have a blog comp! *snort*) I went out and bought some.
All in the name of education people.
Three packets just don’t seem enough for a task this important.
Um. Yeah. Your not supposed to eat them like that. All the heavy breathing makes them melt. Oh and notice the hair! The freaking CURLY rat-fuck-son-of-a-bitch hair! It is like 47000% humidity here and my hair has turned into a frizzball that not amount of straightening can contain. And this lazy biatch hasn’t painted her nails in like, weeks!
Letting the Blogging Goddess halo slip there….. but I assure you that I have some faaaaaaaabulous shoes on.
Now back to the Clinkers….. *swoon*
I love the green ones. Go Green!! W00T for the green!!! But you never know what you are gunna get. Like Forrest and his chocolates. Green, Forest, Green!!!!
So you have to check.
It was freaking YEARS before MPS realised that they came in green. And that they didn’t have little chunks out of the tip. And when I first succumbed to the awesomeness of the Clinker
crack habit, MPS didn’t realise that they had chocolate on them….. *snigger*
But of course, say it after me, all together now…..
That is not my fault. Bastard just needs to be faster.
Now I better go and hide whats left before my hormonal devil spawn get home. Those biatches can sniff out chocolate from the fucking driveway.
No fear of them finding them there……
Now don’t forget to keep pushin’ on that humour blogs button people. Every freaking day. Make it part of your morning routine. Shit, shave, shower me with your lovin’. Apparently the more you click the higher up I get in the rankings and then I get to have my blog
ripped to shreds by rabid humour bloggers reviewed by my peers.
And if you are so inclined please vote for me in the Bloggers Choice awards. And I
will show you my boobs will be forever grateful.