Why Weight?

Convince her to (finally) try anal.
It's Friday.

**WARNING PUSSIES: THIS POST CONTAINS THE 'N' WORD**

A breakup is the exact moment that two people get to know each other.
Frig, this place is always full of children.
Every day there are children clamoring all over this coffee shop.
Wouldn't bother me, but they always drag their parents along with them.
Alright.
Where are we, here?
Let's get organized.
Food for thought? Sure, I've got it.
My roommate and lover (two separate people) insist that I 'fret' over my meals.
I concern myself with what I'm going to eat and when I'm going to eat it.
I line up all the particulars of my three daily meals a night in advance.
Not generally my style.
That being said, we're not talking whiteboards, here.
We're not talking food schedules ("Spaghetti on Thursday!").
But I suppose it's true.
I do sort of obsess over what the next meal is going to be.
After dwelling on it a bit, I've concluded on a possible motive for this.
Maybe I ploy over my meals because they're the only events I experience in a day.
Think I might try to get a job.
Like, a real one.
Well, not a real one, per se.
Just one that has a schedule.
There's that, and, y'know...I lost five pounds.
My losing five pounds is sort of like a normal person losing whatever amount it takes for them to reach 135 pounds. 
I'm back up to where I belong now, thanks.
A safe Turpin weight (when  she's not full of babies, that is).
All-Sumo diet.
A fish stew and beer.
That's all I consume.
They treat the lower dan guys like cattle, y'know.
Far from the WWE, these guys have to really pay their dues to reach the top.
Did you know that Yokozunas have special vestments that they wear publicly to denote their sumo status?
They're huge celebrities.
Sure, they have a lifespan of about 45 years, but it's my understanding that they fuck a lot of women.
Any athlete would tell you that that's a good deal.

So, I don't wish to talk smack, but I have to mention the new living situation.
It's about the same as the old living situation, but there's a new roommate.
Seems like a good guy so far.
...
...
It's just that, well, I was living with one dude who was a little beefy up around the noggin.
And that's fine.
Now, however, it's sort of...well, there's two.
I'm sure they'll work out.
Because I'm in the midst of a project in which I convince myself that they'll work out.
Preparing for one of my usual wayward constitutionals, the new one bid farewell by saying:
"Enjoy the fuckin' walk, son!"
Now. There's no need to make a big deal out of this.
It's positive, y'know?
That's a positive thing to say.
I just don't know how to respond to something like that.
Anyway, I'm a modern man and I'm going to roll with it.
It's like Napoleon always said, "If you can't beat 'em, outdo 'em."
Of course, Napoleon said it in French.
We're passed the tricorner hat, but I can certainly get some FUBU caps.
Trimmed with graffiti-style writing that doesn't actually say anything.
Loose jogging pants.
I'm going to listen to lots of music that has the word "nigger" in the lyrics.
Eat my cereal with Cretin.
Start fights with guys simply because I have made eye contact with them in a bar.
I'm going to show these guys who the real numb skull is.
I'll see you on the other side.