Showing posts with label the fatties. Show all posts
Showing posts with label the fatties. Show all posts

Thursday, July 23, 2009

Nowhere To Go To But Down, Down, Down, Nothing But The Ground Left For You To Fall To

I at least live in District 6, fucko.
Dear Supervisor Daly:

Fuck off and die.

Better yet, resign first, then fuck off and die.

Thank you.

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Dave's weight loss plan has hit a major snag as his knees, burdened by a college-age injury and thirty-five years of supporting his ass in all of its failed endeavors, can't take running anymore.

It's been a week since my last run, and my knees ache. Walking to work is painful. Going down the stairs is painful. Life's painful, and I live it, but I can do without chronic knee pain.

Gotta find a back-up plan.

Sunday, July 19, 2009

Turbo-Crushed Is Our Mission, On The Table Or In The Kitchen -- YEAOWWW!!!

A week from now, I may be going to a Muppets-themed party at a friend's place in SOMA.

A month from now, I'm supposed to box my friend in another's friend's courtyard in the TL.

And on October 5, assuming I don't pass out in the next 24 minutes, I'm supposed to go see the Motorhead-Reverend Horton Heat-Nashville Pussy with a ton of people.

I define Permadolesence. And fattitude.

Tuesday, July 7, 2009

Fat Boy On A Diet, Don't Try It, I'll Jack Your Ass Like A Looter In A Riot

Where have all our heroes gone?

See if you can guess where Day 2 of Dave's Unofficial Diet went off the rails:

1) Tempeh salad for lunch;
2) Ran 1.5 miles (give or take);
3) Small Quizno's veggie sandwich (no mayo, forgot it had cheese);
4) Three Kettle & Sodas while catching up with a bartender who's been on tour with one of his bands for the past month;
5) Learn that another bartender and his new wife are apparently getting divorced, get saddypants, drink three beers and four whiskeys;
6) Go home and drink more beer;
7) Cry.

And I am so fucking hungry right now.

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Also: Fuck Carol Migden.

Thursday, July 2, 2009

When You're Only Having Seconds, I'm A-Having Twenty-Thirds

Oh look: It's me.
Things I Wish Were True But I Fear Are Not:

Those little microwavable pizzas that I buy from my corner market at 11:30 at night after I'm smashed but haven't eaten dinner? I wish they were only 250 calories.

Tuesday, June 30, 2009

Had A Million Dollar Vibe And A Bottle To Go

Nas is pissed.
Oh noes: Pour one out for Vibe Magazine.

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Ran for 10 minutes last nite. Pathetic. But that what's you get when your 50 pounds overweight. Try again tomorrow, Tubbytits.

Thursday, June 25, 2009

That'll Never Get Old



I've watched this a 100 x 69 times before, and I agree.