Warning: this admittedly weird metaphor for death requires an outstanding imagination and rudimentary problem solvi… https://t.co/ry08PXwMtY (12 hours ago)

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Sep
30

a decent attempt at the rare triple double entendre

A long time ago I had a girlfriend who liked to have sex when I was on the phone with American Express customer service. The same was not true for Visa or Mastercard, so obviously I was constantly checking my balance with American Express.

Having sex while holding a phone was tricky. It required a certain physical prowess.

“Checking my balance” now has two meanings. A perfectly executed double entendre.

She was the same girlfriend who felt quite strongly that cilantro is the gayest of the herbs. She readily admits that this is due entirely to her first exposure to it being while at a café in Sausalito, in her opinion the gayest of the cities in California. She reached this opinion after hearing a very effeminate man with a lisp attempt to say it.

Cilantro never stood a chance after that. The fact that she was one of the small percentage of people who has a variation in a group of olfactory-receptor genes that allow them to strongly taste the soap-flavored aldehydes in cilantro leaves didn’t help.

It came down to genetics. Much like homosexuality I’m told and in roughly the same percentages. The second, albeit fuzzier, double entendre in only a few paragraphs.

Sometimes you’re just in the zone.

This was the same girl that once told me she saw this giant frowning face in the clouds one day and she swore to me that she felt like it was staring right at her. She described the furrowed brow and the furrowed lips in great detail (typically you don’t see furrowed lips, but it was a cloud so sometimes things get furrowed that aren’t supposed to be). She said for a few minutes she knew what it was like to believe in an all-knowing god. She did not enjoy the experience.

Eventually the cloud dissipated as did the uncomfortable feeling.

As well as the opportunity for a third double entendre.

A shame really. To be so close and then end up empty-handed.

A lot like her if I think about it. I miss her every time I call American Express.

Wait… did I just…?

Nope.

Close though.

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