I can already see it happening in a month. I am going to be one of those poor saps dragged onto Maury and labeled a cheater. It’s inevitable. I know I know it’s sad isn’t it to know that at some point I’m going to be one of those poor pathetic bastards hooked up to the lie detector machine knowning that I’m cheating on…… my diet.
What? Did you honestly think I would actually cheat on my girl? I have an amazing woman whom I adore. Why would I fuck that up? You people are crazy. Real nut jobs. People are so predictable that it sickens me. If I had any faith in the human race it’d be gone at this point. Poof. All gone.
This whole diet thing has me sweating. I’m going to end up on that stage swearing that I didn’t cheat when I know damn well I did. Maury’s going to look at me with that enevelope pulsating and taunting me. I know what’s going to happen next. The only thing I can do now is wait for the horror and humilation.
They’re going to set me up in the green room and my sexy decoy isn’t a stripper. It’s a large meat lovers from Regina’s pizza and a dozen honey bbq wings. Look, there I am eyeing my mistress and holy hell look at me attack those wings! The audience is horrified, people are gasping in horror, mothers are shielding their children’s eyes, and fathers are throwing up in disgust. All I can do is hang my head in shame.
“You son of a bitch. You set me up!” Well duh, no one leaves a pizza and wings laying around. Shit, if my girl ever gets lost all she has to do is leave a trail of peanut butter Snickers and I’ll find her. I know it’s sad but what can I say?
Now we come to the lie detector test. At this time all I can say is; “You son of a bitch.” There’s really nothing else can say to make me look good. I have a bbq sauce mustache for God’s sake and I just devoured two pieces of pizza.
“Monkey, we asked you have you ever snuck out of the house to eat Twinkies, you said no, the lie detector test determined that was a lie. We asked you have you ever said you were going to the store and intead went to Regina’s for pizza and wings you said no the lie detector test determined that was a lie more than five times. We asked you do you ever sneak candy bars in your trench coat pockets you said no, again the lie detector determined that was a lie.”
I can demand to be retested but I’d fail because before walking on stage I’d probably have eaten a twix or a moon pie. Hell I probably cheated five times before I got to the show. All I have left to do is throw a few chairs and pray that I don’t pass out from exhausion.
It’s not that I’m like really obese I just haven’t met a wing or a nacho I haven’t liked. If you look at my room now you’d see a few Snickers and a half a bag of Dorito’s. If I ever took my cholesterol I’m pretty sure it would read; Holy fuckin’ shit! I don’t do sports, and exercise is for people that aren’t me.
I keep hearing shit about taking care of my body, eat healthier. Why? At my age who wants to live until their eighty? Are you fuckers insane? Why exactly is that a good idea? Do you realize that I have abused my body so badly the shock of a lifestyle change may actually cause me to have a heart attack.
I’m determined to do this diet though. When my girl hands me a salad I’ll swear and growl but I’ll eat it. If she checks the house for my stash of junk food and finds it I’ll remember to hide it better. I won’t even get mad at the kids when they catch me drinking the maple syrup from the bottle and tell on me.
In all seriousness if she asks me to try and eat healthier I’ll say no and then she’ll pout and I’ll have no choice. Of course in a month I’ll be outed by fucking Maury but at least I tried right? Doesn’t that count for something?
In this crazy mixed up world trying sometimes gets a shiny gold star sticker.
I may try and eat healthier but if any of you cocksuckers lays one hand on my pack of cigarettes I’ll be forced to get all crazy eyed and I may even put a cigarette out on your forehead. I’ll giggle and blame it on that fucking salad I ate for lunch. See how that works? I can blame all of my bad behaviour on my diet.
If you want me to be less of a grumpy ass hole then you better get me a dozen wings stat. The next action may be me putting a foot in your ass. Maury is going to out me but I’ll go down swinging a chicken wing and using an empty pizza box for a shield. That’s right people if this diet happens I’m gonna become a bitch. That’s right a bitch.
While she’s force feeding me all this healthy bullshit I’m going to be all angry and bitchy in this blog. See how this works? I’ll be all like yes dear, you’re right I need to eat healthier and then I’ll write a blog filled with reasons why I think the woman I love is trying to kill me.
Don’t get me started on salad farts and burps that peel paint off of walls. Oh Lord this is going to be rough but I’m slamming bags of pork rinds, chocolate peanut butter bugles and any fucking donut I can find because I know once we move in together I may be a happy man but the part that craves junk is going to be sex craved and retard strong. God help us all.