Strawberries and bananas, peaches and plums, these are a few of my favorite fruits.

Apples and oranges, kiwi and fudge, these are a few of my favorite fruits.

Beef steak and cube steak, and deer steak and fudge, these are a few of my favorite meats.

I know what you may be thinking:

"But wait, what of the strawberries...? Strawberries are berries and not fruit."

Was i right, was that what you were thinking?

Well that's just dick-licking delightful of you. Strawberries are fruit in my book because they fucking taste like fruit. Strawberries are not vegetables because i don't hate them, and they're not meat because you can't melt cheese on them. You could dunk them in a small amount of A-1 steak sauce, or worstechire maybe, but that's between you and your god, whatever kind of flaming queen he may be.

Here's a little bit of sound logic: Vegetables grow out of the ground, so everything that grows out of the ground is a vegetable, right? Wrong, whine-stein (nice). Zombies aren't vegetables, are they? Get in my office because your Fucking fired.

So everything that grows out of a bush is a berry, huh? Wrong again, Thomas Edible (nice). Is herpes a berry? Is impending nuclear war a berry? Is harrison ford's beef whistle a berry? Maybe a fuck-berry. (nice).

If I were to spend all day and half the evening making a special fruit cake for my old friends and maybe a few new ones (one is silver and the other's gold), I would include strawberries, peaches, pares and thin-mints. If i could get a hold of some strong herbs like cilantro or some stubble from peter jennings' face, that would make it all the more delicious. But the thing is, I can't imagine how i would get my hands on that stubble, mostly because Jennings' is no longer with us, and this whole ingredient thing is treading dangerously close to a classless, tastless, and faceless joke on the institution of "death". I don't want to be in that kind of territory, that's a big "no-fly zone" for me, because i have respect for Jennings' and more importantly i have respect for my fruitcake. This is not going to be some crass, innappropriate fruitcake, like that crass fruitcake Ted Koppel over at CBS, or as i like to call it, CBSuckmybutt-ski-koppel-ski.

I'd like to be abducted by aliens and taken to Baskin Robbins, the one down on Oviatt street next to Blockbusters. Frozen yogurt? No way! If I'm being treated to a refreshing dairy treat by new alien friends, i'm not going to worry about my calorie intake, buster! I'm going straight for the chocolate and vanilla swirl (real ice-cream, chumpy) with some caramel goooped all over it and the sprinkles (the multi-colored ones, to show my new alien friends that here at earth Baskin Robbins', we appreciate all colors and cultures). I'd eat the whole sundae with a big smile on my face so that the aliens could admire the way ice cream melts in my mouth and not in my hands, and then when i was finished i'd lead them back to their ship and say, "So long, suckers!". But not in a mean way, sort of in a good chummy pal kind of way like you would do to an old buddy who's just visited and is now going back to his life as a stand-up comedian or a kindergarten teacher or physicist. "So long, suckers!" and a thumbs up and a belly rub to remind them of the good good time we just shared at the Baskin Robbins.

And then, straight to the go-cart track, where i hope to reach high speeds and hope to avoid slicing my knee open against the sharp metal edge of the go-cart dashboard just like Mike Castro did at my 10th birthday party. We went to Fun-n-Stuff and had a blast playing video games and eating pizza and doing the batting cages and then, finally, the cherry on top, we rode the go-carts. But that prick Mike Castro had to go hot-dogging it around the track with really very little regard for his or anybody else's safety. He crashed and cut his knee up and it was bleeding all over the place and just like that, my birthday was ruined. Apparently when they promise you Fun-n-Stuff, they mean Fun-n-big bullshit hassle because your ass-head friend wants to be Dale Earnfart (nice).

One last piece of advice for tonight:

If any one ever tells you that they are a "people person", don't trust them. They're just referring to the things they like to eat, like when people say "I'm a chocolate person".