the milk must come from somewhere

below is one of my very favorite craigslist missed connections of all-time. i know it does seem like a bit of a read [for a blog!], but TRUST me, it's worth it! it employs my absolute favorite metaphor if you give a mouse a cookie in a pretty insane way. just make sure you get to the end because that's really the best part.

here!:

Recently, I've repeatedly missed my connection with a specific furry beaver friend which over the past year I've regularly had the pleasure of connecting with. Yet the beaver still taunts and teases me... And it means to!

Translation:

No more casual sex with my ex girl friend-friend? Please, No! Reconsider oh great one, oh worthy unsatisfied vagina! Oh otherworldly beaver! Oh beautiful sweating body screaming raw emotion loud enough to wake up God on Sunday! It was such a great arrangement! Remember how we're both bi-sexual, and we decided we both wanted to experiment outside of the relationship, and up until recently we both wanted to have casual sex every now and again? Remember how we had sex all the time, how the sheets needed to be changed so frequently? How when guests came over we had to strategically place the pillows on the futon! Remember the screams, the moans, the roomates funny looks as we went into the kitchen afterwards to steal their food and not do the dishes yet again? Have you forgotten?

You called me your ex boy friend-friend and I called you my ex girl friend-friend. What happened? Why has the casual sex eroded into a casually akward conversation? Why do you let me-- rather invite me-- in your bed and expect me to want to keep my pants on? Newsflash: Invite a young man who you have had sex with hundreds of times to "sleep" with you in your bed and the pants eventually want to come off. Expecting otherwise should be considered a form of torture. Or better yet is: Will you give me a massage? Newsflash ..2: Ask a young man who you've had sex with hundreds of times to rub you all over, and he's going to want to rub you there too. Why call me up late at night and invite me to "sleep over" and then when I get there insist on inviting my best friend to come watch movies with us? I came over to have sex with you! That's what it means when you call up your ex late at night and invite him to stay in your room for the night! I can watch movies with my best friend almost any time. Perhaps the only time I can't watch movies with my best friend is when I'm having sex with my ex! So you see, that plan really doesn't work.

It's like that story "If you give a mouse a cookie." Do you know what the moral of that story is? He wants a glass of milk. Well, goddamn it! I want a glass of milk. And If I can't get a goddamn glass of milk after you stuff hundreds and hundreds of little cookies down my throat I'm going to choke! I don't want any more cookies! If you give me more cookies I will begin to wretch and convulse!

Anyways, I thought the idea was that we would forget the cookies entirely and just trade milk! If I wanted so many cookies, we would still be together. We would cuddle, and talk through our problems and sleep next to eachother, and give eachother massages. That was part of the love making process that takes many hours (or even days) before you feel the need for the cleansing, orgasmic oneness of great sex. The sex is the milk. It's silky and smooth, it's good for the health, and it puts you to sleep when it's hot. The cookie is the sweet stuff combined with the chunky, hard stuff. The sweet stuff being the cuddling and the massages and the sleeping next to eachother, and the chunky stuff being the talking about our problems, arguing, sharing our dark secrets and the likes. And you see, when you are given enough cookie it starts to build up in your mouth. You simply must have milk or you cannot accept any more cookie!

And to conclude this missed connection rant, I'll leave you with a poem:

You give cookies
I have no cookies for you
I want milk
You still feed me more cookies

I offer to give you milk and
You are suddenly a vegan

Yet your cookies are made with milk
And the milk must come from somewhere

Where does your new milk come from
And why won't you tell me