I made an alfredo sauce yesterday and have an extra ¼ cup of heavy cream. Left-over heavy cream is as useful as a third testicle. If you search long enough, you can find a fast food place that will give you some sauce to dip it into, but it really isn't worth your time.

That analogy makes as much sense as a horse drinking water on a motorboat made out of chocolate. The engine is spitting milk, Junior is eating the mast, and no one can find where the horse pooped.

The problem with writing is that it takes effort to make sense. And time and effort don't mix.

But what does mix is this transition sentence, a.k.a. the spoon for the ceramic bowl that is this essay. I don't want to throw away the pampered milk, but my plan to put a packet of sea monkeys in it and donate the cream to a sperm bank didn't make it past their microscopes. Damn you, science! We could have had a new world order.

So I'm forced to do the next best thing: pour it in my roommate's soy milk. That'll teach that lactose-intolerant commie to mess with America. You want to support the terrorists by voting for John Kerry? Fine. America's going to blow a hole through your ass, and she's not going to close the door behind her.

I love mixing stuff.

Bonus info:

Originally, metaphor was a Greek word meaning "transfer". The Greek etymology is from meta, implying "a change" and pherein meaning "to bear, or carry". Thus, the word metaphor itself has a metaphorical meaning in English, "a transfer of meaning from one thing to another".

Amusingly, in modern Greek the word metaphor is used to refer to a cart or trolley; thus visitors to Greek airports will find themselves using metaphors to carry their luggage.