the only thing worse
than bad memories
is no memories at all..
[dismemberment plan]
11.29.2004
Annnd...... It's Back!
Winter is coming upon us, and in some kind of biological cycle, I find my body totally preparing for some bullshit hibernation schedule, like I'm some kind of motherfucking grizzly bear or some shit. I've got massive padding and insulation, especially in my ass and my thighs, and this morning I counted an extra chin. The feeling of my flabby stomach folding over my belt is back, too. Fuck!
This morning I got up and made a power breakfast of frozen vegetables and two fake sausages... and some RAMEN. Fucking ramen. What was I thinking? Ramen is basically flour and oil packed together, e.g. carbohydrates and fat. The worst of the fucking worst.
I then put a few clementines in my schoolbag and went to work, where I immediately shoved the three clementines, one after the other, into my mouth -- within 15 minutes of my arrival.
Feeling not-too-bad yet, to my left, I heard a RUSTLE-RUSTLE-RUSTLE shakey sound. It was my boss, Jack, holding a box of Munchkins in his hand above his head, shaking the damn thing at me like it was a bag of doggie treats, and I was a big fat poodle or something. He may as well bent over at his waist, put both of his hands on his knees and called out: "C'mere! C'mere girl! Mmmmm you love deese widdle sugar lumps dontcha? Dontcha?" and rubbed behind my ears. BUT I AM NOT A GOLDEN RETRIEVER.
It was seriously kind of embarassing though -- everyone at work has become used to me freaking out over Munchkins, and sometimes they even stop working just to watch me stuff them in my mouth and then try to smush as many of them as I can between my fat, sorry fingers so I can hoard them at my desk in a big powdered sugary mess.. and then immediately cram them into my mouth one after the other, too.
Within half an hour of Jack shaking the Munchkins at me, taunting me -- making the little dough balls rustle with joy, the one Siren song that I can't resist (I do look like a big fat shipwreck, after all) -- I had eaten probably over a dozen of those little fuckers. My fingers were sticky with sugar, glaze, and jelly, and my shirt had a big smudgy ring of powdered sugar across my chest.
I sat there at my desk for a while, with powdered sugar and cinnamon pasted to my cheeks and jelly in the corner of my lips, with my jaw slack and my tongue hanging out a little. The sugar coursed its way through my veins and suddenly, my brain flatlined completely. Instead of clopping around from my chair to the copy machine in my office high-heels that I keep stashed under my desk, I kept my sneakers on and let all the papers pile up, thinking, "Oh yeah, I'll just get them before I'm about to leave for home. Fuckit. Dammit why are there no more chocolate ones!"
I began to get really retarded, too. While talking on the phone, I started feeling short of breath. Since I have to call our customers to collect money, I leave a lot of voicemails for people. I heard myself saying something like, "Hi, I'm calling from *GASP GASP HUHHHH_HUHHHH_HUHHHH* [insert company name] about a few... *HUHHHH.... HUHHHH....* unpaid invoices? Give us a call back, our number is ###-###-##... #.. #...." and the last few numbers trailed off and up into a hypersonic squeal-whisper, like the kind that comes out when you have only a last wisp of air in your lungs but you don't want to stop and take a breath, so you squeeze it all out. ... It was really fucking disturbing.
Plus, when the phone rang, instead of putting the receiver to my ear, I was so sleepy that I accidentally punched myself in the eye with the mouthpiece.
Soon enough, I went from being mildly lethargic to completely incompetent. I started typing like my mom and my eyes glazed over. When the phone rang, I kept stuttering and saying our company name weird.. Like with a Spanish accent for some bizarre reason -- Instead of saying "digital," I'd say "dee-hee-tahl." What the fuck! And I'd usually say "One second, please" before putting people on hold, but now I was saying "Wan say-conn, plea." What the fuck was going on??
So I got back to my dorm, made a quesadilla that I ate with salsa, and while I was eating that, I got to thinking.. And saw a startling pattern in my recent habits;
Let's review a few key symptoms:
I thought back to a strange concocction I found myself eating last week -- a corn tortilla, toasted in a standard toaster, with peanut butter and jelly.
There's a number of reasons why this seemingly disgusting combination was consumed:
1. It's actually not that bad,
2. One of my cunt-bag suitemates ate or threw out my bread,
or
3. I am the embodiment of the essence of a Mexican man living inside of the body of a Korean girl.
Okay WAIT.
Wait wait wait. Before you think that's ridiculous, go back and read the evidence presented above.
After all, I have been overwhelmed at times by the strange animalistic urge to scream, "AY YAI YAI YAI!!!!" along with a mixture of chittering noises at somewhat "questionably attractive" young ladies while staring them down with big, hopeful eyes -- especially in dark subway stations. I also found myself comparing the Munchkin box rustling shaking noise to the sound of maracas; and of course, most compellingly perhaps, my inexplicable love of comically oversized foam sombreros.
Once again, I'm not sure where this post is going, exactly, but the tone seems to be leaning towards some kind of resolution, here. I don't know. I mean, all I know is that my pants are feeling tighter, my thighs look like stuffed sausages again, and I'm turning into a big, fat, pathetic, sloppy shit. As of this moment, as I'm typing this, I have already consumed at the very least 100 peanuts, some chocolate chips, and a bag of popcorn. I'm getting fatter and fatter, and contrary to common belief, it's not all going to my tits and my ass, but it's really making my armpit fat bulge and jiggle. My Sans-a-belt is looking better and better. When I sit down in a chair, my tits rest on top of my mountainous belly, slightly slopping to the sides. I have trouble breathing when bending down to tie my shoe, and clingy sweaters look just horrible on me.
Most shocking discovery made during this magical journey into lard land:
I can tilt my head forward so that my chin is completely enveloped in neck fat.
[Peek-a-Foo]