"I'm doing it for the kids!" then she barfed

"I'm doing it for the kids!" then she barfed all over my Fendi sunglasses. She looked up and saw pretty Malibu mountains.

We'd been drinking on the beach through a humid California night. The dying embers of our bonfire leapt up and around us. We we're degenerates but goddammit we were sexy.

my swimsuit got lost in the tide. How long could I tread water watching Samira dance 'The Monkey' by the Midnight Surfing Shindig bonfire? Parts were getting wrinkly.

The water was getting colder. Shrinkage was accelerating. That was a phenomenon I could ill-afford to let continue at this juncture. I cupped my junk and sprinted for the bonfire

which quickly evaporated the water into steam and heated up my junk nicely, which started to plump like a ballpark frank. As my junk started to swell larger and larger I couldn't

transport said junk with some lowly wheelbarrow. So, I laid my junk on Magnús Ver Magnússon's shoulder on my way to the butcher. "It's like throwing a hot dog down a straw," women

murmured, as they stood back, admiring Magnús Ver Magnússon's brute strength. They admired me too, just by association, much to my delight. The butcher shop wasn't far off & Magnus

threw me over his shoulder and bought 3 pounds of pigs trotters and a calf's brain. Magnus Ver Magnusson knew how to treat a girl. I busily jellied the trotters while he bounced

the brains and that, boys and girls, should be a much more coherent allusion to the changes in your bodies than some metaphor about birds copulating with bees. Comprende?