Fat Tuesday
Technically, it happened Monday night. But I’m still feeling it. I ate an entire pint of “Marsha Marsha Marshmallow,” and chased it with a glass of eggnog laced with Extra Old Mount Gay. Then I died.
Technically, it happened Monday night. But I’m still feeling it. I ate an entire pint of “Marsha Marsha Marshmallow,” and chased it with a glass of eggnog laced with Extra Old Mount Gay. Then I died.
Via Boing Boing, but I was alerted by Mir: I am so dead if my wife gets one. .
Six minutes. That’s how long it took for me to deliver a pint of blood from my body to the little rubbery plastic bag. Piece of cake. And I got a nifty t-shirt and juice to go with it. And now? I’m having a glass of wine (it’s been 8 hours, I didn’t just give […]