So, here’s a thing about me: If you’re my friend, at some point, you will receive a text from me that says, “You like big balls.” This is regardless of gender or sexual preference. It’s to keep me entertained, and I think we can all agree that that’s safer.
Anyway: This weekend, my pal Cedric got his MBA, and the Mouse and I journeyed north to Lincoln Center for the ceremony. We stayed sober throughout and were rather quiet, but it was a long ceremony, and well, one gets bored.
About an hour in, I started texting the Mouse.
Me: You like big balls.
Mouse: Your mama likes big balls.
Pause.
Me: Your balls like big mamas.
Mouse: You are a bad person.
Jennie Smash 
Not that simply texting “you like big balls” isn’t fantastic as it is, but is it by any chance referencing the classic AC/DC song?
-Tim
He’s the one who brought your mama into it.
And come to think of it, my mama too!
Hey!
-Mrs. P.
Actually, “you like big balls” refers to my friend Dan, who likes to tell ladies, when he’s drunk, how big his balls are. None of us has the heart to tell him that we don’t care about the size of a man’s balls. Or even, truth to be told, the presence of them. Although we think it’s nice that y’all find them so soothing.
Actually, “you like big balls” refers to my friend Dan, who likes to tell ladies, when he’s drunk, how big his balls are. None of us has the heart to tell him that we don’t care about the size of a man’s balls. Or even, truth to be told, the presence of them. Although we think it’s nice that y’all find them so soothing.