Trash Talk

As you are well aware, I often watch TV with my husband. I remain steadfast in my quest for sex and not even “Man TV” can deter my efforts to fight for a bone every now and again. I sit through hours of everything from football to aliens waiting for the right moment to strike…aka half time or commercials. And you wonder why I choose food over men? It’s called “ROI” sisters…Return on Investment. I can put in a good 10 seconds at the drive through and get hours of pleasure dipping my lovely golden nuggets in decadent honey mustard sauce OR I can spend hours watching aliens fly over the White House in hopes of 5 minutes of ecstasy. Damn nuggets win hands down! However comma, every so often my premeditated television agenda produces a nugget of it’s own. I bring you, once again, to the Discovery Channel. Word of warning…if you are a freak…The Discovery Channel will find you! You never know what you are gonna see on that damn channel…parasitic twins (which for the record is what I believe to be growing under my arm…I shall name her “Little Debbie”), people who want to shag their kin due to some phenom called genetic attraction and the icing on the cake…people who think they have mastered the art of losing weight! It’s just F’n disturbing…I know this.

Let’s just cut to the chase and talk about the most disturbing of them all…the Fat Busters. Allow me to back up and say that there were three groups of “experts” profiled on this particular segment. Of the three, only two laid claim to weight loss genius. The 3 rd group was clearly eating the food left behind by the first two but I’ll get to them later. Let’s start with divine intervention shall we? Because apparently losing weight is all the rage in Heaven! Whodathunk?! According to the “Weigh Down” program…”why you can just eat whatever your little heart desires because Jesus himself will save you from your plate!”– said very quickly with the thickest of southern drawls. Yes, the woman who said that makes all of her money from televangelism, wears far too much makeup, has enormous blond hair and cries on cue. Oh and can sing well. What is it about these overzealous Christian types having good pipes? If someone would have told me that loving the Lord meant I could sing like Lita Ford…I wouldn’t have skipped out on Sunday school back in the day! Now I’m 37 and overweight. Not a good look for today’s rocker. Shameful. Anyway, her theory is based on a belief called self-control. I know. I had to look that one up too. In “her world”, you wear gaudy suits and pearls to the table, eat with at least 6 naive friends and fill up your plate with whatever you want to eat. Sound heavenly? It’s about to. Let the trickery begin…before anyone is allowed to eat said food, everyone must pray to God for portion control. I swear I can’t make this shit up! I’ve said that prayer more than the Hail Mary itself and it’s gone unanswered more times than my cries for sex! ** Pause for sign of the cross as I fear I am being taken into the depths of hell**

Let’s expand on the visual…you and your 6 dumb friends are sitting around a large table, overdressed, hand in hand, praying that you won’t attack and kill whatever is on your plate. Then, after praying to the Lord for strength, you begin to shed a tear and realize that you really don’t want those fries…and your burger…hell no! Umm…yeah…no. I don’t know about you, but praying makes me hungry. In fact, the first place I go after church is to the grocery store. That is unless I’m really hungry. Then I go to McDonald’s. “They” say not to go to the grocery store on an empty stomach. Just following the rules. Anyway, this lady is a whack job! As much as I believe in everything being possible through God, I am living proof that some things are just not possible! I attend church every Sunday. I pray. I am a fairly good person minus the drinking, cussing and the lust I carry for Brad Pitt. Sort of a “Mother Theresa” in black if you will. So if I can’t get one prayer of portion control answered….NO ONE IS! However it appears there is money to be made in getting people to pray themselves thin. This hooka is makin a mint with her “Weigh Down” BS. If things get tight this winter I may have to shed a few tears and join her on channel 269 whilst leaving good food on the table and deceiving my fatty friends. Desperate time…desperate times.

Moving right along to the 2nd group of crazies. They believe in caloric restriction. Interesting. Fascinating. So they do the following: eat a small breakfast, smaller lunch and do jumping jacks instead of eating dinner. One word comes to mind….HUNGER! Is it a newsflash that caloric restriction results in weight loss? I don’t think it takes a mental giant to wrap that one up in a bun! The problem is…..PEOPLE LIKE TO EAT AND NO ONE IS OPTING FOR JUMPING JACKS OVER APPLE JACKS, FLAP JACKS OR JACK IN THE BOX… F’RS! I shall waste no more time away from my late night snack talking about these caloric restricting cardio quacks. We have better things to talk about…like dumpster diving!

Have you ever heard of Freegans? In a nutshell they are eating all of the food that the last two groups of whack jobs walked away from! They are dumpster divers and I love them! They move in the middle of the night and prey upon unsuspecting bags of trash left behind by the wasteful. One woman said she hadn’t bought groceries in years. She simply went out at night and found what she needed….in the trash. I don’t know what your trash looks like, but I’m confident she’d be hard pressed to find any value in mine! Hell, what I don’t eat I lick. What I can’t lick I scrape. What I can’t scrape I add to water and wait. About the only thing you’ll find in my trash of any use are 3 free issues of Playboy that I’m keeping from my husband. As soon as he finds out that all women don’t have pot holes in their ass…I’m done for. Stir that in your coffee. As much as I was impressed by the Freegans ability to live on the waste of others, I had my concerns. How could I incorporate this lifestyle to fit a fatty? Picture this…you are driving through the streets of NYC after attending the MET. You get caught at a red light. It’s late and there’s no one to call so your eyes start to wander. Off in the distance you see something emerging from a dumpster behind the local Krispy Kreme. You wait patiently trying to figure out what it is you are seeing. It’s too big to be a rat and not big enough to be a garbage truck. It appears to have two sides, a split down the middle and 2 legs that get bigger at each end. As the figure pulls itself from the dumpster you can see two eyes and a face covered in glaze. Then, it lets out it’s signature calling card, “Belch!” Mystery solved. I give you the Freegan Fatty. Who wants to see this? It’s bad enough that we consume more than our fair share on a good day! Now we are being encouraged to steal leftovers from the less fortunate. I won’t let the fatties go out like that. Until such time that we can no longer afford our 10,000 calorie a day habit, we will pay for our food. No one wins when a fatty goes Freegan. You could lose and eye looking at that.

I figure I’ll be fat unless one of the following miracles takes place: Divine intervention, Cartwheels for dinner or a Freegan gives my husband porn from the dumpster. I’d say the odds are in my “flavor.” I think God forgets to put in his miracle ear when it comes to my requests, I can’t in fact do a cartwheel and I purposely fill the trash can with dog dung to keep away unwanted guests. Clearly I must be butter cause I’m on a roll! Badabumbum.