So that's what they mean by "junk" food.

Ridiculous. You should always practice safe sex, even if you're with another--

Oh. A Twinkie. Sorry... misread

Either way someone is getting a cream pie.

I think I would rather eat a condom than a Twinkie.

gwydion56: I think I would rather eat a condom than a Twinkie.

I suspect the nutritional difference is negligible.

What Plants Crave: First thing I thought of after reading the headline...

[i341.photobucket.com image 452x678]

Damn close to what I was thinking when I wrote the headline.

jimmyego: gwydion56: I think I would rather eat a condom than a Twinkie.

I suspect the nutritional difference is negligible.

They both have a creamy center filling.

cowgirl toffee: jimmyego: gwydion56: I think I would rather eat a condom than a Twinkie.

I suspect the nutritional difference is negligible.

They both have a creamy center filling.

LOL

I certain bet that's one cream filling your wife will swallow.

gwydion56: cowgirl toffee: jimmyego: gwydion56: I think I would rather eat a condom than a Twinkie.

I suspect the nutritional difference is negligible.

They both have a creamy center filling.

LOL

*takes bow*
:P

found those who ate a high proportion of junk food had poorer quality sperm than those with a nutritious diet.

What they fail to point out is that the bad diet means more likely overweight. That means more estrogen, and thus bad sperm.

nonzero: gwydion56: I think I would rather eat a condom than a Twinkie.

[www.abc.net.au image 200x339]



The chewing gum in this vending machine lasts forever.

...but it all tastes like rubber.

quantum_jellyroll: nonzero: gwydion56: I think I would rather eat a condom than a Twinkie.

[www.abc.net.au image 200x339]

[www.abc.net.au image 200x339]

The chewing gum in this vending machine lasts forever.

...but it all tastes like rubber.

Bet you could blow bubbles with it all day.

I slowly eased my car onto the shoulder, the blue and red lights reflecting into my eyes from the rear-view mirror. It looked like I'd pushed my speed a bit too far over the limit in Hudspeth, Texas. In the mirror, I could see the cop car behind me bounce violently as a portly shape emerged and then began waddling toward my side window. Shiat, busted by Steven Seagal. I'd heard tell he was a lawman in these parts. I couldn't afford another speeding ticket. But something suddenly clicked in my head, something that convenience store clerk had told me earlier that evening. A plan formed in my mind...

The officer stood in front of my window, wheezing faintly, and hiked up his dropping pants. "Lissenzun regisstrun peeze," he said, out of breath after walking the 20 feet between cars. I assumed that meant he wanted my license and registration. I pulled my driving license off the top of the dashboard, where it was wedged underneath the Twinkie I'd set there moments ago.

"Here you go," I said. "What seems to be the problem, officer?"

"Yuze shpeedn," he said. He shined a flashlight on my license, then directed the beam at the Twinkie. The golden snack cake and cellophane wrapper glistened in the light.

"Wuzzat?" he asked.

"Oh, I forgot that was there. I was going to have it as a snack, but I'm not hungry now. Would you like it?"

Almost as soon as I'd said it, a meaty, sweaty arm entered my car, fat sausage fingers wrapping around the Twinkie and snatching it through the window. With a hideous slurp and a rustle of cellophane, it was messily devoured.

"I'm sorry about speeding. I want to be in full compliance. Hopefully, we can take care of that here?"

He burped, ejecting tiny bits of Twinkie filling against the side of the car. He wiped his greasy mouth off on a sleeve and said, "Gottenny ore?" which I assumed to be a query as to whether I possessed more Twinkies.

"Sure," I said. "There's a box on the back seat. You're more than welcome to--"

The car trembled as the back door was yanked open and the Twinkie box removed. There was an orgy of disgusting, wet slurps and crinkling plastic. I was horrified by realization that empty wrappers were nowhere to be seen. Was he eating them cellophane and all? Before I could consider further, he emitted another wet belch and other sounds of gastric distress, flailed at some crumbs and blobs of filling stuck to the front of his uniform, and then said, "Ssokay. Jussawarnin thissime. Yuze free taho. Donspeed nomore." He turned and began waddling back to his car. As I pulled away, watching him pause for a breath near the hood of his car, I realized I owed that convenience store clerk a debt of gratitude. At the time I hadn't understood why he'd insisted I buy some junk food for the drive through the county.

/Works on cops too
//Credit: Prank Call of Cthulhu