This wasn’t the original title of the post, but then I typed it, and I really like it, and I think I might have to work into a piece of poetry or something.
I had the hiccups three times today and I lost them every time by laughing so hard I got to the point where I couldn’t breathe.
There was this moment, of everyone being draped on different couches playing the improv game traditionally known as “I Like My Women”. The point of the game is to pick an object and then to come up with innuendo-laden comparisons, example gratia: “I like my women like I like my coffee: hot and sweet.”
We switched up our gendered pronouns, because it’s more fun that way.
A few highlights from our game:
“I like my men like I like my bowling balls: with three fingers in the holes.”
“I like my women like I like my books: bound in human flesh.”
“I like my women like I like my books: banned in Texas.”
and the best one of the night:
“I like my men like I like my angry chickens: with dreams of flying that will never be realized.”