After months of hardened battles, arguments, relationships being broken and mended, the group of friends finally managed to agree on a date they could all meet and play Dungeons and Dragons. But their joy soon turned to sorrow as, instead of just starting the damn game, the DM spent 40 minutes giving them a detailed history of their custom game world. As the bard character kept listening, trying to figure out which of the new monsters he’ll be able to seduce, the rest started to suspect the worst: Shit, is Sean secretly workshopping his awful fantasy novel?
The great American author John Steinbeck is celebrated around the world for his masterful blending of whimsy with cold, hard realism, and for having fans with enormous penises. But while it is generally true that having read Of Mice and Men is a good indicator that you need to tuck your beef thermometer into your sock as you walk, I’m here to tell you that there are exceptions to this rule. Believe it or not, I read Steinbeck and the size of my tallywhacker has never made a prostitute jump out of the window in fear.