"That crazy bastard won't make it through his ridiculous diet," I can hear you saying. Literally. Well, this bastard might be crazy, but he's got perseverance! (Him being me, and you being all smug.)
That's right, buckos and buckettes -- I am more than halfway through my week-long Cabbage Soup Diet!
And now that I've improved my eating habits for nearly four days, allow me to lecture you on the importance of moderation.
Look at you. Bellying up to the all-you-can eat buffet to pluck your Salisbury steak and scoop your glistening piles of cheese-drowned macaroni. Feeling the dull vibrations of panic as an unshaven suburban troglodyte lumbers between you and the half-empty tray of franks and beans. There is more to life than a three pound plate of starches precariously balancing a corn muffin. The sun does not rise and set on your precious bacon double cheeseburger. Have you ever tasted an apple? I mean, really tasted one? It's not that good, but it's good for you. And that's my whole point: Apples aren't that good.
I was once like you. Gluttonous. Slothful. But for the past ninety-one hours I have become temporarily better. Temporarily much better.
So eat your Doritoes and your Hot Pockets. Oh, and be sure to wash it all down with a can of carbonated corn syrup. Meanwhile, I will spend the final days of my diet reveling in the self-righteous universe of the recently converted. And that is all the sustenance I need.
I can't fucking wait until Monday.
4 comments:
Cabbage? I thought you said Babbage! I just ate a Difference Machine, Klinger-style!
I don't feel so good a lot.
Alright Cabbage Patch Kid…you're all smug now with your sudden revelation of culinary piousness, but listen here and listen good. You’re going to crack one of these days when you’re sauntering past a Krispy Krèmes or maybe it’s a bear papa puff with a sprinkle of powdered sweetness that captures your attention. Either way, it doesn’t matter, because its only matter of time Cabbage Boy. One of these days you’ll figure out that your just like the rest of us and you weren’t really special at all, and that’s when everything you know is going to tear apart at the seams and you’re whole world will come crashing down!! And I'm going to be there to watch you fall, laughing like a soft mad child, smug in the wooly cotton brains of infancy!!!
Hey! Aren't you still slothful?
Well, I for one (for what else would I be?) am rooting for you, you negligibly less-slothful, momentarily not-fat bastard!
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