Peanut Butter

First off, I apologize fair audience. I have been slacking on the blog, and the blog has suffered in turn. It is hard for you to read my musings, in blog form if I am not bloging. This inconsistency, has nothing to do with you, or your mothers. It does however, have everything to do with my propensity to consume alcohol and mild drugs. Especially when the weather is fair. Summer air coerces me into poor decision making, and I stand firm in taking no responsibility for my actions.
With that being said, I will get to todays topic: Peanut Butter.
Fuck I love it. I am not concerned with the fact the when I was seven years old, I put my entire fist in the peanut butter jar, and ate a scoop that was much to large for my mouth. I remember distinctly choking on the landing in my childhood home, going red in the face, and panicking as my mother came in, and screamed "IAN!!! WHATS WRONG?!" I pointed to the open jar that was cussed onto the floor, and then gestured in a frenzy to my pathetic mouth. She proceeded to poor me a hefty glass of milk, and violently shove it down my throat, all the while telling me to "Chew, and fucking breath!!!!!"
I did. I lived, and for the next six weeks was banned from eating PB, since my mother lived in fear that she would come down the basement one day, and see my bloated corpse, dead as fuck, slowly vomiting, regurgitated peanut butter out of my fat Young mouth.
I did however get over that spell, and for many years I have been living a sexy, and productive life in regards to my peanut butter consumption.
In my adolescent years, I seemed to be slightly more innocent, consumption wise. I would not be as liberal, and would be limited in when I could eat PB, and in turn what I could put it on. But let it be clear, even though I was under the rule of law that existed in my parents house, I still managed to eat my fair share of the good stuff, whether it be on a piece of bread or simply off of a spoon - or the ultimate - if know one was home, off of my thumb naked, with my other hand rested firmly on my penis.
However shit really got real, in the PB world when I when to university. I lived off of it. I ate it drunk. I ate it sober. I ate it with cheese, I ate off of any surface. I did not care. It was as though I was an addict in East Couvie, but my hit was not the China Grey, but the sweet Squirrel nectar. I was hooked, and quite frankly still am.
Although the above is shameful, and disgusting, it still has its positives. Positives, which stem from the pure love that I achieve from PBs erotical consumption. I have had many dark nights, thinking alone about my obsession, however my dark thoughts eventually become clear - I am not the only one it this position. Clearly, others love this fucking stuff as much as I, and due to that my soul is free. I am part of a club. Regardless of its pathetic, and obsessive nature, it is still a club, goshdarned it. Peanut Butter lovers unite.
My we all parish in a flow of murderously hot liquid peanuts.

Sex.

Mr. Bacon Wagon