Besides being a clever conversation starter, this is the winner. And not because it ponders the trials and tribulations of autofellatio, but it wins because it uses one of my favorite words, superfluous.
Superfluous and I have an long and storied relationship. You see, whenever I tried to slip superfluous into its appropriate place in an adult conversation down at the Elks club or with the dirty hippies that live under the overpass, its pronunciation always tripped me up. It became such a problem in fact that I created a mnemonic to help me remember how to pronounce it. The mnemonic device I used was the phrase, “Super Phyllis”. For some reason I thought it kinda sounded similar to superfluous but it really doesn’t, unless you are burping or gagging when you say it. So now when I try to say superfluous while I’m in a business meeting or giving a rousing pep talk to an intramural softball team, I just stare at the horizon and whisper “Super Phyllis,” over and over while looking like I’m about to hurl.
