Thoughts Whilst Recovering from an Overindulgence of Pork

WHAT I'M LISTENING TO: A lot of "Had a Bad Day" because it's the only song Number One Son appears to like. He sings along with the chorus, which is cool.

WHAT I'M WATCHING: A few minutes of The Office (rerun, blah!)

WHAT I'M READING: Same damn thing. It's only been a few hours, people.

So I ate a lot of pork today.

I'm talking a lot.

Too much.

Belly-growing-as-I-sat-there too much.

The wife surprised us with some BBQ tonight from a new BBQ ribs place that opened up about a mile from us. Double T. The "T" in this case stood for "Toodamnmuch!"

I literally ate pounds of BBQ ribs today, people. The equivalent of a human head. I wasn't even thinking about it. Unlike so many rib tip places, they had a lot o' meat on each tip. I was in heaven. Some rib tips in a tangy mild sauce (because my tummy is a pussy), some fries, and some slaw. Slaw, baby!

So I went to town. We ate while watching Monday's new episode of "Heroes". Sidebar-I'm still waiting for cheerleader Claire to take that shower. She's a cheerleader. The girl's gotta get dirty and needs to clean off. Just show us this and I'll move on. Or a strip search. There was a perfectly legitimate strip search scene waiting to happen in an airport, and they just let her board that plane. It don't make sense.

Back to the eating. About six pounds in, I noticed that my DC United jersey no longer fit. But did that stop me? Nope. Cut it off my bulbous belly and tucked it betwixt my third and fourth chins like a child's bib and kept on going. Number One Son just stared at me with his mouth agape, slowly pushing his own plate of food away. My sensible wife ate a nice portion than put the rest in the fridge for lunch tomorrow (and Saturday, and Sunday, and Monday, and Tuesday, and everyday up until the end of Lent-a lotta food, I'm telling ya).

As the button on my pants shot off and left a sizable circular hole in the wall, I finally reached the end of the meal. No more pork to be had. Sauce dribbling down my chin like a gay guy after pleasuring his boy toy, I noticed Charlotte the Spider on her web in the corner, explaining to my wife how Wilbur had gone missing and wondering if we'd seen him.

I was done. Now I must swear off food for Lent, and I don't even consider myself a Catholic.

"You've lived a good life, Father O'Flannery, but it says here that you a T-bone on Friday March 16th. To Hell with you, sir!"

Some other random thoughts while waiting to die:

(1) My gay friends must hate me. Heck, my straight friends too if we're counting. But let's focus on one minority at a time. I'm not the most subtle friend they've got. Talked to my gay pal yesterday on the phone and after he related a casual sex story (minus the gory details) I asked if he was pregnant.

Back in the day when my gay pal Flapjack lived in town, I would often open conversations with "So, suck any big dick lately?"

And I frequently show them my wedding ring and taunt them in a childish sing-song voice "You'll never get married! You'll never get married! The Christian Right won't let you! Na-na-na-na-nuts on chin".

Okay, I don't do that last thing. But I might have to one of these days. Sounds like it'll be fun for all.

One thing I'll never understand about gay sex is this: how can guys enjoy it? It hurts me when I force a turd out the shit chute, and those are usually small. I don't even want to know how bad a stiff cock up the arse feels. Many women say they want a well-endowed man. If I were gay, I'd be looking for the fellow with the smallest dick possible. "You wanna come back to my place? That all depends. Are you hung like a newborn?"

Of course, they tell me that you get used to it. The anus eventually becomes loose. That doesn't sound pleasant to me. I don't want to drop a deuce sideways and not have it hitting flesh.

(2) Why do companies bother with references on applications or resumes anymore? Who's really gonna put an iffy reference down. "You wanna know about Chuckie boy? Yeah, I worked with him. Laziest piece of shit this side of Reno. Only thing he was good at was milking the clock."

Who even bothers to check these anymore. I don't want anybody calling me last employer. If I'm unemployed, chances are they fired me for incompetence or I quit because they were all assholes. I don't want some asshole being the make-or-break for getting another job. If I have a job, I certainly don't want to advertise to my current employer that I'm looking to leave. That's a wise career move. Time to play the game.

What the fuck...is up with references?

(3) Ever take a dump for so long that your ass cheeks go numb?

Maybe that's just me.

(4) After eating a torso's worth of pork, I'm thinking about having a slow churned ice cream bar. Half the fat, 1/3rd the calories.

That should balance out the eight pounds of meat I had for dinner.

(5) Back to the topic of gay guys. Why are so many right wingers surprised by the gay man's libido? These are guys afterall. Guys think about sex all the time. They don't always get sex because maybe the woman is not in the mood. Now take the woman out of that picture, and you've got two horny guys thinking about sex all the time.

Gee, I'm shocked that gay guys do it a lot. So different from us straight ones.

(6) All apologies to Monty Python, but there is no number six.

I must go rest my weary head now. My body is worn out from having to digest a small pig.

Be Seeing You.