Light and hearty observations from a fat and ugly guy. Home of hackneyed drivel and ersatz-existentialist effluence. Choleric biliousness a specialty, since 1958.

What's for lunch?

Among my many disorders, make sure to include "eating" whilst enumerating, won't you?

I wake up and I'm...just...not...hungry. At all. I'll barely eat breakfast, maybe; it's really all I can do to choke a few nibbles down--then I'll have a light lunch, something small, again if at all. Some days I don't eat till I get back home and log in with my case worker. She scolds me all the time: "Nigel, the reason you're a fat miserable bastard is because you're such a complete asshole and no one likes you." Hmmmm. What this has to do with eating is anyone's guess, but I hear it from her a lot and I do put some stock in her state-licensed opinion. She has the credibility, to say nothing of the handcuff keys.

Digressing again. Pardon.

Here's when I get hungry: at night, sitting on my gigantic pimple and wrinkle laden arse, watching Jimmy Swaggart on TBN. As I'm switching back and forth between the Rev. Jim and Comcast PPV channels 401--410 (the hard core stuff is on 408, btw), the urge to gorge groceries accumulates. Ultimately I give in, and right around 10pm I can generally be found tucking in to an extra large Digorno ("it's not delivery, it's Digorno") triple extra cheese, all washed down with two or three refreshing sugar-free Frescas.

That's some lip-smackin' good eatin', and right before bed. Convenient, hey?

Well.

Would you just LOOK at the time? Gotta have them re-attach my electronic ankle bracelet and get to work. Have a good day, won't you?

posted by Nigel St.John Regina Smegmatica Howle-Raines @ 8:25 AM