Holy liquid love in a mug, Batman! This stuff is smoooth. Smooth like a baby’s bottom, like deep black velvet, like that inside curve of a woman’s neck. S-m-triple-oh-t-h smooth. I quaffed a pint at the local Yard House (”130 beers on tap, not all crap!”) and now have a new object of fantasy. No, I’m not telling what the last object was.

Yum yum get you sum.