Forget potato crisps. Get me a box of Oreo or Borneo (I cannot seem to decide which of the two is sweeter so I am gonna keep stroking them till I find a winner. No pun intended.) and I will marry you. Well, I will consider it and they say that it is the thought that matters, don’t they? I really cannot believe that I am about to dedicate an entire post to a couple of dark round biscuits with a splash of cream in between. On second thought, I think I can, because junk is the current love of my life. Second, if watching funny baby videos on YouTube counts. This is so because as you might or might not be aware, I have since ceased to relate with anything in the name of a man, and that includes Kermit the frog. All he does is turn sensible statements into stupid memes, and then goes on to sip on his shitty drink like he’s done nothing wrong. See? The typical man. Always finding a way to turn something, everything, that’s so sweet and sensible and good into nothing, and not give two donkeys about itL. I would spend my time and post hating and cursing their already cursed existence, but my fingers are extremely exhausted from all the poking I have been doing lately, of my nose and of other places I’d rather not talk about right now. Therefore I’d rather just use the little energy left in them to write about things as sweet and as innocent as myself, like Oreos.
Oh sweet Oreo/Borneo! I am oh so delighted to have met ye. You make the sun in my life much warmer, the rain seems much more watery when you fill my mouth. The taste of you is like heaven itself; of course not better than when Boris Kodjoe kisses me, in my castle of castles of imaginations, but still. You come close, very close. Your wheat parts, so very dark, and luscious, extra sensual and chocolaty. Your delicious curves have no end, literally, because you are perfectly circular. The layer of cream in between…oh Oreo/Borneo, so creamy and thick, and way better than that part where the ice cream hits the cone and you’ve got to eat both at the same time.
You know I’d make piggy tails with his hair and throw Justin Bieber into the Pacific for you if you asked me to. I’d cut off Miley Cyrus’s tongue so that you won’t have to die ten thousand times every time she irritatingly sticks it out in a pic or video.(No offence Miley. Wrecking Ball is still the real shit) I would even subject my ears to the unbearable pain of listening to Willy Paul’s ‘Mama’ without commenting about his dream of becoming Rihanna’s twin because that song’s beats and everything in its musical arrangement sounds almost exactly like Disturbia. But only if you like the man, that is. Otherwise I’d find him and ask him what’s with the shiny feminine lip gloss he refuses to stop using.
What I am trying to say, sweet Oreo/Borneo, is that I love you, adore you to be more precise. You make me complete and I cannot live without you. I want to keep eating you, all the days of my life. I might end up looking like some fatty magnified storage of all the world’s calories in the process but I honestly don’t care, as long as you are in me. You are all I need and all I want. May you continue to exist for a very long time to come. I have plans to let my great grandkids experience and explore the same joys and pleasures that you so gracefully bestow upon me. By then you’ll probably have evolved into something better with a different kind of name, like Groreo maybe. Nah, that just sounds like a Kikuyu trying to say something nice but failing miserably at it. Oreo/Borneo in itself is hard already for them, so please keep the name as it is, if you ever wanna change. Just looking out for a fellow citizen you know.
I am done showering praise on le boo (actually I am not, my fingers have just run out of the energy to go on, and Zac Efron is on TV, shirtless. So I kind of, no, I WANT, to focus on that piece of glorious perfection-that fine face and those fine fine abs-because I need the images firmly engraved into my mind for business later on in the night) but y’all gotta try this Oreo/Borneo stuff. I’m telling you, you will get arousals you have only ever dreamed of. Appetite arousals. (May God thoroughly cleanse that dirty-mind of yours) And if your cable subscription has run out, or it just sucks outright, you will find the shitty local programmes way bearable as long as you’ve got Oreo/Borneo by your side. Then, after you have realized and partaken of this tenth wonder of the world, find me and thank me. I only need like…fifty boxes of them, as a thank you gift. Thank you.