Tom Oatmeal

A Blog About Intercourse from a guy who doesn't get nervous about intercourse like his friend Ricky does.

208 notes

It’s not that I can’t believe it’s not butter.  I DON’T believe it’s not butter.  I think it IS butter and that somebody is lying to me!
I snuck on the truck in hopes of tracing the product back to its original location, presumably a butter factory.  But the truck stopped at a standard depot because the law prohibits drivers from logging too many hours without breaking for sleep.  He was done for the night.
“How will I ever sleep,” I thought!  “This is so exciting!” 
But somehow I did manage to doze off because next thing I knew, I was waking up to the sound of guys shoveling heads of lettuce onto the truck.  I was too buried in them to make a graceful exit so I continued to lie there, thinking.  Eventually, I picked up a head of lettuce and turned it over in my hands.
“I wish I knew what they wanted me to think about the quality of this lettuce,” I thought.  “That way, I could accuse them of lying about it.” 
And I never found out.  But I DID find out where they delivered the heads of lettuce!  A grocery store.  Not the one my car was parked at though.

It’s not that I can’t believe it’s not butter.  I DON’T believe it’s not butter.  I think it IS butter and that somebody is lying to me!

I snuck on the truck in hopes of tracing the product back to its original location, presumably a butter factory.  But the truck stopped at a standard depot because the law prohibits drivers from logging too many hours without breaking for sleep.  He was done for the night.

“How will I ever sleep,” I thought!  “This is so exciting!” 

But somehow I did manage to doze off because next thing I knew, I was waking up to the sound of guys shoveling heads of lettuce onto the truck.  I was too buried in them to make a graceful exit so I continued to lie there, thinking.  Eventually, I picked up a head of lettuce and turned it over in my hands.

“I wish I knew what they wanted me to think about the quality of this lettuce,” I thought.  “That way, I could accuse them of lying about it.” 

And I never found out.  But I DID find out where they delivered the heads of lettuce!  A grocery store.  Not the one my car was parked at though.

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