Personal lives can sometimes be like volcanos, prone to eruption and disaster but without all the hot molten lava and the killing of innocent villagers. At least I would hope without the lava. You may be some kind of lava spewing monstrosity for all I know. If you are, come see me. I have a new business idea that would benefit greatly from your mutated ability. It involves me selling you to either a high profile circus or to some over-funded covert branch of the military. They would run a series of brutal tests while exploiting your volcano-like nature, all in the name of science. Some of the more junior staffers may stay late just to poke fun at you and they would giggle everytime you involuntarily spewed lava. Ok, so maybe it's just a great idea for me.
Anyway, where was I? Volcanos, lava, upheaval! Yes, upheaval. That's what I was looking for. That word is the real deal closer, the one that really sealed the whole volcano analogy. It's all becoming clear, isn't it? Every now and again, people go through upheaval in their personal lives and I'm not simply referring to the kind of dry upheaval that you get after drinking an entire bottle of 151. No, this is of the more metaphoric nature. Sometimes you take a step back and look at yourself from afar, deciding that you need change in your life. However, if you're like me, you have no idea what to change or where to even begin the process. I have spent a large portion of the last five minutes thinking very deeply about this problem. While I can't speak for you or your situation -- you'd need to give me power of attorney to do that -- I can fill you in on some ways that I am looking to improve and change my life.
The first idea that I had would be to become what I despise most, thus enriching my personal experiences and perhaps broadening my views on life. The downside would be that, like some strange Star Wars story arc, I would become what I hate and probably turn to the dark side. The dark side mostly consists of shoplifting and stealing car parts from Napa. But on the flipside, I would, having been what I despise, probably have a better outlook on the life I currently have. Or at least that's what my board of paid experts tell me. Doing this is no small undertaking and will require extraordinary amounts of mental and physical work to accomplish.
I would begin by eating four meals a day at the local Home Town Buffet, ordering mashed potatos and gravy by the bucket as I spoon-feed myself extra helpings of fried chicken. In the times that I am not attached to the buffet table, I would have to inject myself with constant shots of lard in order to keep my consumption levels high. An IV of straight Crisco will be necessary for the times I frequently fall asleep lest my body miss a minute of the day where my oil, fat, and cholesterol levels are not steadily rising. I would, of course, cancel my gym membership because working out is for nerds and I am anything but. Light beer would be out of the question. I'd have to switch to something hardier, a Guiness or some kind of thick pale ale. Nothing compliments a two hour buffet meal like drinking an entire keg of Guiness.
This specialized treatment would go on indefinitely, though in the future it may slow after I have gained the necessary girth and reached the level of obesity that really suits me. It's likely that I would become belligerent and anti-social at this point, beating small children in between bouts of alcoholic depression because deep down inside I am angry at myself. Walking is out. I'm not walking anymore. I would purchase one of those woefully underpowered motor scooters that old people use when they grocery shop. And I would be a complete asshole about driving it. I'd intentionally make sure the horn was broken and run over the feet of people I hated. I wouldn't really be able to fit on the thing, largely because it was made to support someone about 3/4 my size, but I would ride on anyway. The youth of America would point and laugh at me as I sped by at 7.5 miles per hour but I wouldn't care. You can't hurt me anymore than I am already hurting myself.
Eventually, as with all great things, my motorized scooter would break and I would be without motorized transport. This would temporarily send me into a state of panic because I might miss one of my regularly scheduled feedings at the buffet place. Thankfully, I would have the option in place to inject butter directly into my veins which should keep the seizures at bay. Getting airlifted via chopper is one potential idea but that's simply not practical due to the expense involved. So, I would do what any person of my size would do: purchase a Ford Festiva. This is the perfect tiny car for a large guy like me. Sure, it might take me between three and five minutes to get in or out but it sure beats walking. You'd hear me coming from a mile away too since my flabby man boobs would constantly honk the horn when I have the windows rolled down. I'd also fill up both front seats so you'll need to find your own transportation if you want to meet me at the buffet.
In order to suppliment my income to provide for my expanded eating habits, I would be forced to do something that I'd never in my current state of mind: start a website. I'm not sure about all the details yet but it'd be called watchmeeat.com or something along those lines. People could tune in at any hour of the day and watch me eat, even sending me emails and tips on what to eat next. If you're lucky, you might even get a wardrobe malfunction or two as I bend over to get that bag of pork rinds I keep dropping on the floor. There would be exclusive content for paying members, like shots of my bare leg or perhaps me modeling some of the latest in enormous fashions. This would, eventually, leave me bed-ridden and unable to leave the house. I could start up sister sites like watchmesleep.com and begin the paperwork on my "Fat For Africa" donation drive. Again, the details aren't entirely clear but it might be something along the lines of, "I eat too much so the starving children in Africa don't have to." Either that or I would simply donate some of my excess via liposuction. Just tell them that cellulite is the new Play-doh.
I'd die, of course. All good things must come to an end, and even sometimes bad things come to an end too though it does seem like it takes a lot longer for the latter to happen. Did you ever watch Elektra in the theaters? Yeah, you know what I mean then. I started out this update with a number of ideas that I could use to enrich and change my life but having expanded the first idea to death, I think it lays out a good roadmap for the changes I'd like to see occur. It would bring prosperity to small towns, riches to the homeless, and milk to the damned who are lactose intolerant. I see this as my future though your actual opinion and results may vary. Change is good and needed. So, when life tosses you lemons, as that saying goes because I guess life likes playing catch with fruit, let those nasty things drop and go run and get a double double with extra cheese. You'll feel better.
Anyway, where was I? Volcanos, lava, upheaval! Yes, upheaval. That's what I was looking for. That word is the real deal closer, the one that really sealed the whole volcano analogy. It's all becoming clear, isn't it? Every now and again, people go through upheaval in their personal lives and I'm not simply referring to the kind of dry upheaval that you get after drinking an entire bottle of 151. No, this is of the more metaphoric nature. Sometimes you take a step back and look at yourself from afar, deciding that you need change in your life. However, if you're like me, you have no idea what to change or where to even begin the process. I have spent a large portion of the last five minutes thinking very deeply about this problem. While I can't speak for you or your situation -- you'd need to give me power of attorney to do that -- I can fill you in on some ways that I am looking to improve and change my life.
The first idea that I had would be to become what I despise most, thus enriching my personal experiences and perhaps broadening my views on life. The downside would be that, like some strange Star Wars story arc, I would become what I hate and probably turn to the dark side. The dark side mostly consists of shoplifting and stealing car parts from Napa. But on the flipside, I would, having been what I despise, probably have a better outlook on the life I currently have. Or at least that's what my board of paid experts tell me. Doing this is no small undertaking and will require extraordinary amounts of mental and physical work to accomplish.
I would begin by eating four meals a day at the local Home Town Buffet, ordering mashed potatos and gravy by the bucket as I spoon-feed myself extra helpings of fried chicken. In the times that I am not attached to the buffet table, I would have to inject myself with constant shots of lard in order to keep my consumption levels high. An IV of straight Crisco will be necessary for the times I frequently fall asleep lest my body miss a minute of the day where my oil, fat, and cholesterol levels are not steadily rising. I would, of course, cancel my gym membership because working out is for nerds and I am anything but. Light beer would be out of the question. I'd have to switch to something hardier, a Guiness or some kind of thick pale ale. Nothing compliments a two hour buffet meal like drinking an entire keg of Guiness.
This specialized treatment would go on indefinitely, though in the future it may slow after I have gained the necessary girth and reached the level of obesity that really suits me. It's likely that I would become belligerent and anti-social at this point, beating small children in between bouts of alcoholic depression because deep down inside I am angry at myself. Walking is out. I'm not walking anymore. I would purchase one of those woefully underpowered motor scooters that old people use when they grocery shop. And I would be a complete asshole about driving it. I'd intentionally make sure the horn was broken and run over the feet of people I hated. I wouldn't really be able to fit on the thing, largely because it was made to support someone about 3/4 my size, but I would ride on anyway. The youth of America would point and laugh at me as I sped by at 7.5 miles per hour but I wouldn't care. You can't hurt me anymore than I am already hurting myself.
Eventually, as with all great things, my motorized scooter would break and I would be without motorized transport. This would temporarily send me into a state of panic because I might miss one of my regularly scheduled feedings at the buffet place. Thankfully, I would have the option in place to inject butter directly into my veins which should keep the seizures at bay. Getting airlifted via chopper is one potential idea but that's simply not practical due to the expense involved. So, I would do what any person of my size would do: purchase a Ford Festiva. This is the perfect tiny car for a large guy like me. Sure, it might take me between three and five minutes to get in or out but it sure beats walking. You'd hear me coming from a mile away too since my flabby man boobs would constantly honk the horn when I have the windows rolled down. I'd also fill up both front seats so you'll need to find your own transportation if you want to meet me at the buffet.
In order to suppliment my income to provide for my expanded eating habits, I would be forced to do something that I'd never in my current state of mind: start a website. I'm not sure about all the details yet but it'd be called watchmeeat.com or something along those lines. People could tune in at any hour of the day and watch me eat, even sending me emails and tips on what to eat next. If you're lucky, you might even get a wardrobe malfunction or two as I bend over to get that bag of pork rinds I keep dropping on the floor. There would be exclusive content for paying members, like shots of my bare leg or perhaps me modeling some of the latest in enormous fashions. This would, eventually, leave me bed-ridden and unable to leave the house. I could start up sister sites like watchmesleep.com and begin the paperwork on my "Fat For Africa" donation drive. Again, the details aren't entirely clear but it might be something along the lines of, "I eat too much so the starving children in Africa don't have to." Either that or I would simply donate some of my excess via liposuction. Just tell them that cellulite is the new Play-doh.
I'd die, of course. All good things must come to an end, and even sometimes bad things come to an end too though it does seem like it takes a lot longer for the latter to happen. Did you ever watch Elektra in the theaters? Yeah, you know what I mean then. I started out this update with a number of ideas that I could use to enrich and change my life but having expanded the first idea to death, I think it lays out a good roadmap for the changes I'd like to see occur. It would bring prosperity to small towns, riches to the homeless, and milk to the damned who are lactose intolerant. I see this as my future though your actual opinion and results may vary. Change is good and needed. So, when life tosses you lemons, as that saying goes because I guess life likes playing catch with fruit, let those nasty things drop and go run and get a double double with extra cheese. You'll feel better.
(0 comments) - Add Comment - Rate This Update