jLo (and) the Tart(s)
This is a story from some time ago, which I had neglected to post until now. It happened while TPC was still in town, during roast season, when we would go to the Billy IV every Sunday evening with our jar of mustard, and then retire to Dr Evil’s Lair afterwards to drink wine and watch cheesy movies made in the 1980s.
On our way back to the Loft from the pub one evening, we stopped a small convenience store to lay in supplies of cheese and wine. While perusing the shelves, I came across the following:
jLo: “Ohmygod. Look! “ASS JAM TARTS!!!”
RVW: “I think that’s supposed to be “ASSORTED” jam tarts."
jLo: “But that’s not what it says. These are, quite clearly, ass jam tarts. And don't they look delicious!”
Everyone else: “…”
jLo: “We have to buy some.”
TPC: “How did I know you were going to say that?”
jLo: "At only 99p, we can't afford not to!"
I purchased the ass jam tarts, then spent the rest of the evening offering them to everyone at the slightest provocation.
Madam Fox: “Anyone for more wine?”
jLo (waving the open package): “OR AN ASS JAM TART, perhaps?! You know you want to.”
Dr Evil: “Yes to wine, no to tarts.”
jLo: “Damn”.
Later, I went out for a smoke. I came back in and blathered merrily about something as I went to sit on the futon. I threw my not-inconsiderable bulk down, just as TPC bleated frantically for me to stop. “THE TARTS!”
A pause.
jLo: “Did I just sit in the ass jam tarts?”
Everyone else: “Yes, jLo. Yes you did.”
Another pause.
jLo: “It seems as though this was inevitable.”
The others didn’t answer, they were too busy giggling as I blushed – caught between humiliation at sitting in tart and delight at the irony.
I lifted a cheek, and the room exploded with gleeful shrieks at the sight of an ass jam tart stuck fast to the pocket of my jeans. Cameras were procured and evidence recorded as I peeled the ass jam away from my actual ass. I had been waiting for Dr Evil to send me a copy of the photo so that I could post it here, but then I realised that I really didn't want to post a picture of my ass on the internet. This is one of those images that is probably best left to the imagination.
On our way back to the Loft from the pub one evening, we stopped a small convenience store to lay in supplies of cheese and wine. While perusing the shelves, I came across the following:
jLo: “Ohmygod. Look! “ASS JAM TARTS!!!”
RVW: “I think that’s supposed to be “ASSORTED” jam tarts."
jLo: “But that’s not what it says. These are, quite clearly, ass jam tarts. And don't they look delicious!”
Everyone else: “…”
jLo: “We have to buy some.”
TPC: “How did I know you were going to say that?”
jLo: "At only 99p, we can't afford not to!"
I purchased the ass jam tarts, then spent the rest of the evening offering them to everyone at the slightest provocation.
Madam Fox: “Anyone for more wine?”
jLo (waving the open package): “OR AN ASS JAM TART, perhaps?! You know you want to.”
Dr Evil: “Yes to wine, no to tarts.”
jLo: “Damn”.
Later, I went out for a smoke. I came back in and blathered merrily about something as I went to sit on the futon. I threw my not-inconsiderable bulk down, just as TPC bleated frantically for me to stop. “THE TARTS!”
A pause.
jLo: “Did I just sit in the ass jam tarts?”
Everyone else: “Yes, jLo. Yes you did.”
Another pause.
jLo: “It seems as though this was inevitable.”
The others didn’t answer, they were too busy giggling as I blushed – caught between humiliation at sitting in tart and delight at the irony.
I lifted a cheek, and the room exploded with gleeful shrieks at the sight of an ass jam tart stuck fast to the pocket of my jeans. Cameras were procured and evidence recorded as I peeled the ass jam away from my actual ass. I had been waiting for Dr Evil to send me a copy of the photo so that I could post it here, but then I realised that I really didn't want to post a picture of my ass on the internet. This is one of those images that is probably best left to the imagination.
posted by jLo at 9:50 PM
4 Comments:
jLo, it seems to me that your friends ought to have made a better attempt to sustain and humour you in this culinary fantasy of yours.
I would certainly have had an ass jam tart had I been there.
This made me laugh out loud, long and hard. I think your interpretation was more than fair given they didn't bother to put a full stop after ass.
The other day we were sitting in a ferry terminal (for many hours) and the only restaurant was called "Gastro Chefs". It was one of those slightly uncomfortable situations where you feel like a bad Westerner for laughing at an unfortunately chosen English name, but it's still funny.
OK I have to say it: That's hilari-ass.
Get it?
aww gee, that's special, but just for the kids out there,
when some one takes a picture of a tart and notes that assorted is shortened to ass in the title of said tart, and you start reading that story about the tart, you do wonder almost immediately, if the inevitability of ass featuring again prominently in said story, is, well, inevitable, which indeed it was...
and jax, there's no need to comment on hairiness or otherwise of anyone's ass...
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