Today I experienced what Moses must have felt on the mountain. Except mine happened at Target. While strolling through the gift-wrapping section, minding my own business, I was suddenly presented with the official answer to one of life's most profound questions. Like manna from heaven. Though there weren't any stone tablets handy, I thought I'd better document it.
What was the question?
Which came first, the chicken or the egg?
If a tree falls in a forest and there is nobody around to hear it, does it make a sound?
What is the meaning of life?
How much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?
Nope, none of those.
Just call me The Messenger.
Unless of course, we're still burning people at the stake.
The gift bag message actually validates my previous thoughts on the matter. Size is like cupcakes. Too little (3- inches) and you're still hungry. Too much (10+ inches) and you feel like throwing up. That area right in between is perfect, provided the chef knows how to use his cupcakes.
This is just my own humble opinion though. In college, one of my neighbors swore that if the guy wasn't packing like 12 inches she didn't enjoy herself. I was like "What kind of cavernous bitch are you?" Which reminds me of something that Tom Arnold said, after Roseanne Barr told a magazine that he had a small penis. He replied "Even a 747 looks small when it lands in the Grand Canyon." HAHA!!
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