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12:44 p.m. - 2001-09-20

DOCTOR'S ORDERS

Well, I got a call from the doctor's office today. You might remember that I went to the doctor two weeks ago for a routine physical that was actually a cover for the fact that my balls felt like they had intercepted a thousand dodge balls at warp speed.

Then again...you might actually have a life and don't keep up with my doctor appointments. I truly hope this is the case.

So anyway...results, results, results. I know you're all on the edge of your freakin' seats wanting to know my results.

Here goes...

There's a marginal chance I might be slightly retarded.

Granted, that goes without saying, so we'll move on.

...I have an abnormally high amount of sugar in my body. In my blood, in my urine, in my pattern of speech...I'm like a walking Pixy Stick.

I told the nurse it's because I was "so damned sweet".

She fake laughed as if she'd never heard that joke before.

My cholesterol is normal. My good cholesterol, my bad cholesterol, normal, normal, normal.

My tricglycerides which should be at a normal number like 160....they're 480.

4freakin80.

Legally, I should be dead. I should be dead and they should be draining blood out of my body and siphoning it and the Domino Sugar company should be paying my wife like $100,000 for my remains because I'm like 85% sugar.

This explains why little kids love to bite me. Fer chrissakes...I TASTE DAMNED GOOD!!

I think if I live to see Halloween, I'll just stand on the front porch and let kids lick me all night. Parents will be dragging their kids away from my elbows saying "That's enough, let's go to the next house" and kids will be dragging their heels, tongues hanging outta their mouths wanting one more lick out of my armpits.

Saves money on buying candy anyway.

Sooooo...what does one do in this situation when they're shitting Snickers bars???

Weeeeeelll...tomorrow morning at 8 a.m., I have to go to a laboratory and drink an extremely sweet drink.

Oh...that's really nice. I'm on a sugar buzz from Hell and they want to plug me full of liquid Sweet Tarts. Where's the logic here?

Then I sit for an hour. Maybe watch some TV. Perhaps play some Dominoes. Bottle my perspiration and sell it to the Coca-Cola Company. I have no idea.

Then they measure my blood sugar again. If it goes up, there's a problem. If it goes down, there's a problem.

I don't know what the hell they're going to be doing to me. All I know is I drink something sweet and then I sit there for three and a half hours and they keep prodding me once an hour.

Yahoo.

Oh.

And I am now officially on a low-fat diet starting immediately.

Yafreakinhoo.

As I type this, in my peripheal vision, there's an unopened Coke can on the corner of my desk.

It is mocking me.

"Come, fatboy...Come taste my sugary goodness," it is saying to me in a language that only a fat man and his unopened Coke can truly understand.

I will not partake in your sugary sweet goodness, oh glorious Coke can. You have betrayed me and given me high triglycerides and possibly made me glucose intolerant, you evil red bitch.

"C'mon Fatboy...I won't hurt you..."

Ack! NO, Coke Can! What part of "NO" don't you understand?

"I'm bubbly...and I'm getting so warm over here by myself since you abandoned me four hours ago."

I don't care Coke Can. Our relationship is over.

"C'mon...you know you want ...."

*POP!*

guzzleguzzleguzzleguzzleguzzle

BELCH!

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh.

Sorry.

I couldn't just sit there and listen to my Coke whine anymore.


So Edweird, Jarrod the goofy white boy and I went to Alligator's for lunch.

And I ate my first low-fat meal in three years.

Grilled chicken with bow tie pasta and a sesame sauce.

I've gotta say...it was damned good. Probably not as good as the Cajun Sausage Meat Loaf Sandwich with Fried Green Tomatoes....but it was good.

I'm ready now.

I've got my first low-fat meal under my belt.

I feel good.

I feel like I could run a marathon.

Um.

Maybe walk a marathon.

Alright...walk a block.

But I feel like I could walk that block and only be sweating a little bit.

And then, I could just slurp up my sugary sweat and that would carry me throughout the rest of the day.

I AM INVINCIBLE!!

I CAN DO ANYTHING!!!

HIGH BLOOD SUGAR BE DAMNED!!!!

This is the medical kick in the ass I needed to start exercising and eating right.

And let's face it...I'm just REALLY glad I don't have heart disease or cancer or anything else devastating.

High blood sugar??

HA!

I laugh in your sugary, bloody face!

Yahoooooo!!!

This is the day that my new life begins.

A life of healthy and clean living!!

And...and....and....

....How much fat is in a Papa John's Pizza with the works?

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