One cutesy game little Gayest Neil has enjoyed playing since the moment Momma James sprung him from her loins has been the Gross Out Game.
With anyone, my family, my friends, my lovers. I've always loved playing gross out. Here's my latest attempt at gross out friends via electronic mail in response to a dinner party being cancelled.
"Well isn't she special?
SIGH. And here I slaved for six hours last night perfecting a DELICIOUS Feta cheese and roasted garlic egg salad to serve at tonight's fete. I guess I'll have to take it from under my desk and eat it all alone, tonight.
Me, a big rubber spoon and a tub of slightly higher than room temperature egg salad, all alone on my sofa. Glumly shoveling the strong Feta chopped, yellow yolk chutney into my mouth as I dream of the dinner party that could-have-been.
(Who am I kidding? I simply couldn't wait! I've been sneaking spoonfuls of my extremely fragrant egg salad all day long from under my work desk. So very eggy and mayonaissy and garlic-ey and scrumptious.)
But now none of you will ever know the yummyness of my garlic infused, boiled chicken ovum delight. I can barely chew as I swallow entire mouthfuls of my mashed, hot egg salad. YUM! It's been sitting at room temperature! Incubating itself from the inside out.I wish I had warm butter milk to wash it all down! "