Ladies, there’s nothing wrong with banging a feller. Speaking from the POV of a feller, banging is the only thing that makes us feel special. All the fancy cars and diamond encrusted Rolexes are just means to get banged. So make like a goddamn Rockefeller and indulge in the rich oyster power. The aphrodisiac supernovas of the sea will get your loins revving like a golf cart run on plutonium. Slurping them down will make you feel momentarily like the richest feller on the planet. Read the rest of this entry »
Dead sexy. That is how they describe those who got in my way. To my nemeses, you are on notice: don’t mess with my cooking or banging game! I trained in mountains of Japan not only to cook amazing Japanese dishes and bang geishas by the bushel, but to kill when necessary. Wielding a knife is already second nature to me. That’s merely in addition to my ability to climb walls with suction cups, assassinate foreign dignitaries in their sleep, and then bang their mistresses. It’s almost unfair to my rivals, but life is a series of injustices that I am slowly correcting. I have to make up for my yellow Walkman being smashed by a neighborhood bully when I was 8. If that means cooking, banging, and occasionally killing bad guys, so be it! These oysters are one of many tricks up my ninja sleeves. They render prudes powerless to control their unbridled lust. Hi-ya! Read the rest of this entry »
Ready, aim, fire! KERPLOW! That’s the sound of resistance to your sexy ass being obliterated. Oysters as you well know rev up the engine in your pantalones like filling up a Prius with rocket fuel or feeding a gerbil meth. And combine it with the sweet warm embrace of vodka and you are ready to fucking rumble, I first fell in love with oyster shooters in the Big Easy, New Orleans for you uninitiated. I downed three of them before charging out onto Bourbon Street where Mardi gras madness was on like a very horny Donkey Kong. The seething mass of frat boys and sorostitutes were no match for me. I was suited and booted with oyster power that made me stand out from the crowd of fools. I led one such sorority tramp away from the rest of the Greeks, pounded oyster shots with her and then vanished to my nearby hotel room where we banged each other’s brains out. Things got a little weird after when I forgot her name (Courtney perhaps?), but my libido made up for my apparent disrespect of this Southern Belle, I do declare!
Remove the raw oysters from the shells and scoop them into the shot glasses. Add the cilantro and lemon, fill up the glasses with vodka, and add a few dashes of Tabasco sauce. Bottoms up…literally!