It's a very special time in a person's life when they have reached a high enough pinnacle of fame to be worthy of a parody. And now, gazing from the stunning alpine height of recognition and celebrity that is the 100 Peaches Project (SOB - we have come SO FAR), I am thrilled to announce that yes, now I am famous. Take a deep breath friends. I would thank all the little people. But it's all me, baby! All me!
Check it out: The 101 Peaches Project.
My time has come.
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The 100 Peach Project
I love peaches.
And I mean I love them. I think my relationship with peaches is really a little creepy when you get down to it. Okay, you're probably gonna say that you love peaches, too. And whatever it is, it can't be especially creepy. I mean, this is the internet and all. Well -
You ever cried because you ate a bad peach? I have.
You ever rubbed a peach up against your cheek just to feel the fuzz against your skin before biting in? Definitely done that.
Are you more nervous about eating a peach than you are about, say, asking someone out? I am.
So. The peaches are probably ripening somewhere out there in America, and they'll be put into a truck and shipped to wherever I am, and then I'll eat them. And document each tasty, juicy, easily bruisable experience. At least 100.
It's a hard job, sure. But I'm unemployed. I have a college degree.
THE RULES:
1) We're talking PEACHES. No peach cobbler. No peach juice. No peach ice cream. Whole, raw, beautiful peaches.
2) If it sucks, I can spit it out. It still counts.
3) I don't have to suck at the pit or anything.
1 comment:
I've made it to five peaches. Not bad!
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