Posts Tagged ‘humor’

The Cannibal List

May 14, 2014 19 comments

This has nothing to do with kink or sex or any of that. This is just a list of things I may or may not have said that give people the impression that I might in fact be a cannibal.

I am not a cannibal. Just so we’re clear.


“What do you want for breakfast?”
“Soylent green”

“All I’m saying is if we skinned him, we couldn’t make brother cracklins. There’s no fat there.”

“No, those are not human shins in the freezer. Where would I get human shins?”

“Mmm…human flesh. Wait, no, human isn’t kosher.”

“Yeah? Well your face is full of protein.”

“Honey, how do you prevent kreutzfeld-jakob or kuru?”
“Don’t eat people.”
“I meant other than that.”

“Do you have any idea how impractical it would be to butcher a whole human? We barely have enough room in the freezer for three steaks and two pounds of chicken!”

“Things were going well, we were talking, we were flirting…”
“She thinks you’re a cannibal, doesn’t she.”
“Yes! Why does this keep happening?”

“No! That meat tenderizer is for use on human only!”

“Of course I would eat at a deli called Ugolino’s. What’s the problem?”

“It is a new ice age! We will have to resort to cannibalism.”

“You know, one advantage of grinding your own meat is that no one can tell for sure what it was before it went through the grinder.”

“It’s just such a fine line between innuendo about oral sex and threat of cannibalism. I was a little too close there, may have crossed it. These things happen!”

“I’m pretty sure she’d fit in the oven. You know, if you ever want to go Hansel and Gretel on her.”

“Look, I’m not saying it’s person, I’m just saying that butchered flesh sans hands, feet, or face…would you be able to tell?”

“No food is blue.”
“What about those blue people in Alabama? The inbred hill folk. I mean, if you were a cannibal.”
“I feel like if I were a cannibal I would have more discerning taste.”

“Firstborn children go best with a béarnaise.”

“I’m not kissing her, there’s probably like human flesh caught in her teeth”
“Oy! I just brushed my teeth.”
“That’s your only objection?”

“Don’t worry, he’ll be fine. Everyone knows my people only eat Christian babies; your atheist spawn is safe!”

“So I told him a foot rub really just wasn’t going to do anything for me. I mean, welcome to try and all, but unless he’s tenderizing them for the grill he’s not going to accomplish much.”

“Nah, he’s too little to snorkel. Hasn’t learned about not aspirating water yet. Anyway, he’s barely an hors d’oeuvre.”
“For a shark. If there were sharks in the keys, which there are. He’s more like a four-person main course for humans.”

“Are you biting me?”
“It *feels* like you’re biting me.”
“Absolutely not. Eating is similar to, but distinct from biting.”

“Why would I mind you spending the night?”
“I dunno, you might be worried that if I’m loose in the house while you’re asleep I will kill you and roast your parts?”
“I’m not.”
“Well that’s awfully trusting of you.”

And finally (though this one is a bit unfair):

“I’m not a cannibal! Honest!”

I’m not allowed to wonder why people think I’m a cannibal anymore.

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MC1R: a Cautionary Tale

October 22, 2013 Leave a comment

We had an unexpected guest lecturer yesterday. I like this professor, though I’m surprised he remembers my name: the last time we’d spoken was before I was even accepted into the program.

He lectures like Herodotus, turning off track at the slightest distraction, suddenly lit up by some memorable bit of trivia that his students all have to know right now.

I like him for a reason.

We were talking about malaria, chemoprophylaxis, doxycycline. He mentions that some people have an adverse reaction to doxycycline, asks what they are. I’m one of those people, so I answer: dizziness and nausea, redness and vertigo. Worse in the sun.

He beams at the class. “Do you all know who has the highest pain tolerance in the room?”

Huh. That’s an unexpected tangent. No one has an answer. He walks around the front of the room, shaking a finger at me.

Oh, fuck. How would he know that?

“Know how I know?”

I do not. I can’t see the rest of the class, danger of sitting in the front row. I know I haven’t let any bruises show on campus, haven’t had many lately. I’d have noticed if a professor attended a munch or a party. I’m out to a couple of friends but surely none of them would–

“She’s a redhead!”


“The MC1R gene! Red hair and reduced sensitivity to pain!”

He’s way too excited about this.

“I bet you’re really hard to knock out, too. Did you all know redheads need more anesthesia?”

I’m sitting there with sweaty palms trying not to giggle hysterically.

Guess I should come with notice for sadists: Warning: ginger. May require excessive use of force.

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