Thursday, July 14, 2005

fat kid episode 2: attack of the food jones

alright scallywags. i bet you're having a pretty good laugh at my doughy-childhood expense. the sordid tale only grows...more...bigger and sordid.

first let me be clear: although i was a fat kid i didn't want to date any fat chicks. this is known as the "fat-paradox." a big beer-belly chowder-head couch commando still wants to date a "thin" model. this is why i hated alvin and the chipmunks. they had a "parallel dating system." the nerd chipmunk guy, got the nerd chipmunk girl, the cool chipmunk guy got the cool chipmunk girl, and what did the fat chipmunk get? the fat chipmunk girl. there i was, sitting on the couch eating my fourth bowl of cheerios. (my dad confiscated sugar cereal so i compensated by eating more)


in the supermarket aisle, my dad looks down at me and scowls:

dad: what's wrong with you? that's nothing but sugar.

i sadly looked down at the box of Count Chocula in my hands. concern and shame flooded every corner of my face. "but Count Chocula turns regular milk into chocolate milk," i thought.


this is why beer was invented. when some working stiff plops on his cheek-loaves and watches tv with his taco-bell stash of melted-cheese goodies, he sees salma hayak, and jessica alba, and hears about mariah carey's dress exploading, and then his wife, usually a "plus-size" woman named "helen" or "belinda" or "tammy" sits down next to him and swallows "churro's" whole and chases it with mountain dew, and this poor guy thinks about how he let his penis down, and how he wishes he had a model, a thin body, then he pinches his stomach-cheese and realizes no model would have anything to do with him (unless he owned GM or something) and that's not going to happen, because the guys that have the discipline to run a fortune-five-hundred company also have the discipline to tell their taste-buds and stomach to "shut it" and eat healthy so they aren't fat in the first place. and this his big woman says something like, "but those model women have nothing to say, they aren't interesting." and the fat husband says, "i know baby." but in his mind he thinks, "who the hell wants to talk anymore? i get enough talking from my boss and then i got to come home and talk some more...ahhhhh, why wasn't i sent to military school, why, why, why, did i spend so much time smoking weed and air-guitaring to quiet riot..." that's when depression sets in, like a turd in an unflushed toilet, stinking, and smoldering, dissolving, turning crystal clear water into brown muck. the only way to flush the turd of depression, is with beer.

that's why beer commercials use top-notch models to sell their products. no guy actually thinks that by drinking "schlitz" he's going to be sexy and get laid. he already tried that at the junior prom and it didn't work. no, the women are there to depress the man, "take a gander at the women who will reject you your whole life porky, these women right here, live in a separate plane of existence than you." and the relief comes when you ice your brain sack down with colt45, "because it works everytime."

i am positive that "heavy" women want "hot" guys too. hot guys are even harder on fat women. this is why many "heavy" women can "hold their alcohol," and eventually join biker gangs.

i don't spellcheck.


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