Dinner for Two for One

In Olde Timey times, fatness was a sign of wealth. Back when eating a plate of bacon meant getting a piglet, then somehow convincing that piglet to transform into a gigantic hog, then killing that hog without using a gun (which meant strangling it or some other olde timey method of hogslaying), then using magic to make it into strips of delicious meat and fat, then giving half that to your local feudal lord, then giving 30% to the church, only the incredibly wealthy could afford to get fat.

Lately, times have been getting tough again. If you’ve spoken to anyone that listens to lots of talk radio lately, you probably know that we are going to be unable to feed ourselves again soon and once again fatness will be attractive because only the wealthy will be able to eat enough to stave off the hunger pangs.

When that day comes, this one double fisting what looks like a wrap and a hot dog at a sit down restaurant will be beating the suitors off with a drumstick.

Allergic to Vegetables

My good friend the Lard Logger sent me some pictures from his recent trip to the supermarket. I’m kind of like Jekyll and Hyde at the supermarket. The Jekyll personality in me spends 4 fucking hours buying a single meal because I check the nutrition facts on everything in a desperate attempt to balance binge drinking with good eating to hopefully not end up with adult onset diabetes. My Hyde shopping mindset ends up just waltzing through the store grabbing jalapeño Pringles and fried chicken and Chef Boyardee and Pepperidge Farms Verona cookies (Milanos ain’t got shit on Veronas, and anyone who thinks differently is a fucking moron who should just cut their tongue off now), just chomping anything that I see. From the looks of things, these folks are missing the Jekyll part of their brains.

These folks actually aren’t that fat, but that fried chicken isn’t exactly adding years to anyone’s life.

The worst fucking thing in the world is arm fat. You’re allowed to give yourself heart disease if you love cheeseburgers enough that a life without them isn’t worth living, but for the love of god please don’t wear sleeveless shirts if your arms look like bags full of water.