Man, there’s nothing like when you’ve fugged it up with your significant other.
You know, you’ve gotten into another one of those, “Look, I told you if I knew it was your sister I’d have used a rubber–and a different bed” or “Your-money-is-my-money-and-my-money-is-gone-so-just-CALL-YOUR-MOM” fights that ends up with one of you on the couch, hate-f*cking your throw pillows. Stoopid Christmas memories.
Anyway, one of the sure-fire ways that gets guys out of the doghouse everytime, besides failed paternity tests and deleted Facebook pics, is flowers, right?
You know, you go to the building’s potted plants florist and you say, “Hey florist, I really messed-up last night with my girlfriend/student/wife/dominatrix. I need flowers. Preferably live, cheap ones. Do you sell any of those ‘Little Shop of Horrors’ ones?”.
And then you come home with the posies and say, “Hey dude, I’m sorry about that. I didn’t mean it when I said ‘either the dog needs to be house-trained or your mom’s visiting’. Here’s some posies, and some Fanta soda. I have strong feelings for you.” And then she goes to smell the flowers and–WHAMMO!–the flowers fall away and your dong boinks her in the face. You guys laugh and then have giggly make-up sex.
Well, someone out there is looking out for both the guy and the girl nowadays.
Introducing the coolest florist in the Northeast.
Who knew that someone could combine the win-win into one place of business? I mean, they claim they only sell flowers there, but I mean, really? The name says it all.
Guys are now going to be looking for a fight now. And it’s going to be Valentine’s Day everyday for the ladies.
Imagine being banished to your couch after a night of fighting. You’re tossing and turning, mad and all “worked-up”. Finally, you sit up bolt-upright….and then you sit up…and you yell towards the bedroom, “Ah! F*ck this fighting–I’m going to get some (flowers) at Pussy Ranch! Ah!”. And off you go.
Some choice details/thoughts after reading the website:
- According to the website, the Ranch sells, “curly willows….French pussy willows….clitsanthemums….snatchdragons”. Ok, I made the last two up.
- Placing orders. Can’t you imagine some dude going out there and being like, “I’ll take 3 French pussies, a curly one and three daisies” and then looking around the room before leaning over and asking, “….say, do you guys sell Asian ones, too?”.
- the address is “321 Peters Alley”. Amazing for too many reasons to list. And if you’re not sure how many different ways this is funny, ask your sex ed teacher.
- this backfires when your wife/GF/mistress/significant other gets flagged by HR when they start receiving packages at work from “Rosemary’s Pussy Ranch”? (Only appropriate response: “that ain’t mine.”)
The only thing the Ranch needs now is a proper commercial. I’m thinking they go 1 or 2 ways:
- Group of girlfriends are out at a trendy restaurant bar having dinner drinks, waiting to be knocked-up. They’re chatting and gossiping about Girlfriend X who’s been hurt once again by Dick Boyfriend Y. “Why does she stay with him?” asks one. “He’s so bad to her” remarks another. “Who needs men when I’ve got my gurrrls” pleads another girl, who is ugly. Suddenly, first girl’s cell buzzes with a text message. She reads it, smiles excitedly and holds it up to the rest of the girls. Text reads: HE GOT ME P***Y. Girls squeal with delight and proceed to celebrate with Red Bull, Vodka and Yaz.
- Woman at home in a robe, looking distraught, pissed and Bobbit-like. One leg is draped over the other and pumping wildly. Half-naked baby crawls around on the table next to her, picking up cigarettes and baby-smoking them. Sound of keys, door opening. Husband trudges into the kitchen looking sweaty, but relaxed and a little nervous as he takes in the scene. Wife walks over, spits in his face. “Where have you been???? You get off at 5:00pm!” Husband, camera looks at wall clock. It’s 5:05pm. She sniffs at him, once, twice. “….and why do you smell like p***y??”. Suddenly he produces bouquet of flowers from behind his back. “I remember you said you liked these for awhile in college. Happy Anniversary.” She collapses in tears, hugs him crying. He silently waves naked mistress out of kitchen closet. Baby starts smoking.
I’m willing to give these to Rosemary’s Ranch in exchange for a lifetime of free goods/services. After all, I think the Pussy Ranch could use a good jingle, don’t you?