My Weight
I have two problems. One is I like to cook and the other is I like to eat what I cook. My doctor recently asked me during a checkup what I liked about being fat. Hmmm. That’s a good question. Well my clothes fit me right now. It’s pretty easy to maintain. Women are not knocking on my door at all hours of the night anymore. Man, was that a drag. Anything smaller than a mac truck is not going to knock me off my feet and anything thrown at me instantly goes into orbit around me.
What do I not like about it? Well for one thing, owners of restaurants give you the evil eye when you walk up to their buffet line. After awhile they start hanging around your table, tapping their foot, and looking at their watches. At this point, I usually say to them that this is an all-you-can-eat-buffet. They promptly reply, “But you’ve been here for four hours!” while holding up four fingers in my face. “You leave now, fat man. Leave some for the other guests! We’re making no money tonight! You leave and don’t come back!”
I decided I could have some fun with this guy since I already looked the part—a lawyer. “Well you know, in one of my court proceedings,” I drolled out in my thickest Southern accent, “we sued a restaurant owner because technically ‘all you can eat’ refers to the amount one can eat in a lifetime, unless you have the disclaimer ‘at one sitting’ or ‘per visit.’ My client was awarded free food for life at that establishment.” I felt bad though because after that the little guy got an extremely horrified look on his face, eyes rolling back in his head, and passed out right on the floor. He hit hard too. Well I was finished there anyway and decided to leave. I was nice though and handed them a fan that was too high on the wall for them to reach so they could give the guy a little air. It’s been six months; do you think they still remember me?
My Wife
I know you all feel sorry for my wife and all, but you have to understand that she is the meanest women to ever walk the earth. I could be lying at the foot of the stairs with a broken leg and all she would have to say is, “You wuss! Get up! I carried all three of your kids in my body for nine months, all you can talk about is how bad your leg hurts? The skins not even broken! Geez! You are SO dramatic!”
