I like your chicken sandwich but I don't like your chicken sandwich ''like that''. Okay?
by Lucy
To me, food and sex are not meant to go together. Oh, sure, whipped cream and chocolate syrup have certain applications, connotations and implications. I'm not denying that some sweeter fare is a given here and there. But, these commercials that play Barry White over a spinning pizza with bubbling cheese and pepperoni just aren't right. I know, bubbling cheese = hot. Pepperoni = Spicy and in its original form, was a phallic symbol. But, stop. It's wrong.
Remember that Seinfeld episode with George getting his food and sexy-time wires crossed? I got a little ill. Sure, I was still laughing because nausea and humor aren't necessarily in opposition but I was uncomfortable. Lucy doesn't dig this idea. Lucy has a hang-up with this thing. If Lucy ever had a fantasy about the pizza delivery guy, the pizza itself did not have a starring role, if you know what I'm saying. Neither did the breadsticks.
Savory, meat and potatoes type foods do not belong in the bedroom. Or the elevator. Well, I mean, you know. You know what I mean. Wherever someone's doing the Hoochie Coochie. I've had enough of this crap. It seems like every restaurant chain tries to make food fun and sexy in their ads. Your crappy MSG beef taco with greasy imitation cheese is not sexy. I have no sexual attraction to tacos or sausages or anything else you think has a symbolic nature to it. Have you seen that commercial where the chicken sandwich is with that guy in the sleazy hotel room? . . . And he's eating the sandwich (Eating it? Get it? Wink, wink, nudge, nudge)?. . . And, the cow kicks that door open and starts bellowing with the rage of a scorned lover? It says their chicken sandwich is so good you'll ''cheat on beef.''
I should protest this commercial. I think of sandwiches, I think of bread. I think of bread, I think of dough. I think of dough, I think of yeast. I think of yeast, I think of yeast infections. Are yeast infections hot? No. Not unless you're one of those special people that subscribe to Yeasty Pleasures monthly (published in Germany). Other than those creeps, no. No, it's not. So, the bread isn't sexy. What about the chicken, you ask. You pervert! No, I do not think of sexy time when I think of chicken, either. I think of chicken, I think of hens and roosters. I think of hens and roosters, I think of the cock-a-doodle-do sound. When I think of the cock- . . . I- . . . Oh, hey! Oh . . . Oh, no. . .
You know what? Forget this post. This is leading me into dangerous waters that I don't want to be in. Just forget I ever said anything. Certain wires should not be crossed. Not unless you want to get all weak in the knees during Sunday dinner with your whole family there just because you see a ''juicy'' roast. That's all I'm saying. It just can't end well. Please, take my advice and leave your sex and your food in their own little categories of pleasure. We're not in ancient Rome.
~Lucy
