Every now and then when my parents come to visit, knowing that I’m a fruity guy, my Dad will come with two or three big bags of fruit. The last batch had great mangoes with deep orange flesh that tasted like syrup. And plums that once the teeth penetrated, the mouth had to work like a vacuum cleaner to suck up all the exploding juices.
He also got some asparagus. Why oh why he swallowed a fly, I don’t know why. The only thing I really like about asparagus is that there is a chemical in it, I think it is called aspartic acid or something, that makes your pee stink like a hooker bathed in semen and puke. I like taking a piss after eating a vat of asparagus and then kneeling down in front of the toilet as if I just came back from a night of drinking and needed a purge and instead of opening my throat and expulsioning my stomach contents, I open my nostrils and breathe in as deeply as I can. I always have the same reaction, “Totally gross!” Come to think of it, I think I have this reaction whether I have eaten asparagus or not.
Whenever I would buy young coconuts, whose meat is soft and chewy and when added to a smoothie it tastes scrumptuliscious, my Dad would always ask, “What is that?” as the Filipino children who labor 20 hours a day risking broken necks from falling from coconut trees and loss of digits from chopping coconuts, cut off the outer part of the coconut and the remaining inner shell that is an off-white in color is foreign to those who identify a coconut as a hard brown ellipse with a tough white inner that tastes like sawdust. I always answer him the same way, “Is something seriously wrong with your short-term memory? I mean, didn’t you just ask me the same fuckin’ question last week? And what did I tell you?” “That I’m a moron?” “That’s right.” I guess in asparagus and in responding to my Dad’s queries about young coconuts I am pretty predictable.
So among the myriad of fruit my Dad would buy for me, he would always throw in at least one small coconut packaged in a netting of sorts. I think he got them for a good price, being they are purchased only when there is a “Coconut/Hairnet” sale.
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The last time I chopped open one of his hairnet coconuts, there was a strong smell of blue cheese that I never smelled from anything that wasn’t either from a cow or from under a man’s balls. Being raised as a cheap Jew, I had the old Jewish dilemma going: FREE HAM. I nibbled a bit but then said, “I don’t know about this nasty thing,” and threw it out.
This time he got me two hairnet coconuts. When I opened the first one by the scientific method of slamming the two of them together and seeing which one broke under the pressure, that distinct smell of blue cheese was wafting in the air. I decided to be creative. I blended it in my VitaMix and rubbed some of it under my balls and went down to the gay bar I frequent and laughed my ass off when from the other side of the glory hole I would hear, “OH, CHEESY!” The rest of the blend I put in a jar mixed with apple-cider vinegar and used it as a vegan blue cheese dressing on my salads for the next few days. I justified my stomach upset with, “I must have overeaten,” as even a rabbit can only eat so much lettuce before he explodes. Just a thought that came to mind now: I never saw Bugs Bunny eat anything but carrots. You would think that if that were his sole staple that his skin would turn a bit yellowish from the carotenoids.
By the third day of eating this Swami X Original, I realized that this belonged in the same 1950s catalogue that sold a tapeworm in a capsule as a diet program. I dumped the contents of the bottle into the toilet, said a prayer in Hebrew apologizing to God for the waste of resources, took an asparagus piss into the white chunky mess that floated on top of the toilet like a BP clam chowder spill, knelt down, took a deep inhale and blew chunks. Thank God the chunks were pieces of blue cheese coconut and not chunks of my liver like happened the last time I became addicted to swigging rubbing alcohol.
You ate food that smelled that wrong for 3 days!? You deserve to blow steaming chunks.
I’m glad you’re over it, though.
(It doesn’t count as “wasting” if you dispose of something you didn’t specifically ask for.)
I figured if cheese can smell like toe jam and be considered a delicacy, why couldn’t a coconut go through the same unfoldment and be considered just as edible?
I didn’t actually puke, by the way, that was creative license
. And since you seem so vulnerable to confusion, let me clarify something from previous posts: I don’t really have a 14″ cock. It’s 17 inches. I didn’t want to scare away the whores who read my un-blog who might be afraid of handling anything above 14 inches.
I have never eaten blue cheese coconut, but I have experience their most-nasty-beyond-nasty rotten cheese aroma most vividly last year, when I had my tree-running friend Mario, who could give those Filipino kids a run for their $, pick me a metric ass-ton of coconuts. I ate the yummy flesh from many, but being a lazy city bitch at heart, and in the land of oh-so-many cocounts, drilled most of them and extracted the water, and them left them on my doorstep.
Eventually, the place started looking a little Sanford-and-Son with all the coconuts piled by the door, so I decided to take them all and hide them in the bushes so they could compost. As I was lugging them to the vacant lot next door, I smelled it: and yes, it is indeed one of the most foulest, stankiest smells on earth, rivalling the gutters outside the hundreds-of-years-old bars in Fells Point where they hose the beery floor mats and the puke of the alcohol-poisoned into the street.
I’ve never liked bleu cheese so I was not tempted to eat them.
I also discovered that the foul smell will stick on your hands, feet, shoes and wherever else the drilled coconut may jism it, for days, despite numerous washings with Dr. Bronner’s soap in all its aromatherapeutic varieties. Gross!!!
I was a loyal “Sanford And Son” watcher and don’t recall any coconuts piled by the door! And I have been told that my jiz sticks on the hands, feet, shoes, hair, ceiling and wherever else as well!
It’s gotten to the point where if I start stroking it, Abandon will leave the room immediately. I think she was a little pissed about the last “accident.”