Alright. I admit it. I succumbed. Two posts in a row mentioning (if not featuring) defecation. I never thought my boundaries would stretch so far, but apparently my hypocrisy has limits and my blog has none. Let's play a drinking game. For every Tombstone reference, however subtle, drink.
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So is everyone all ready for Blogmeet 2006? I am. It's on my 30th birthday, so I'm hoping I will be too distracted by all the wild partying to feel the sting.
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I'm going on a diet too, or as they say, I'm changing my lifestyle patterns to incorporate food in a healthy way. And you have to move your forearms and hands in a circle, outward from your chest when you say "healthy."

I think I will start posting the ridiculous amount of food I eat per day. Then you people need to start saying things like, "You need a forklift for those mashed potatoes?" and "Poor fucking Jethro, trying to tap that ass." Perhaps some light degradation will inspire willpower. Nothing else seems to be working. But I can't start until the evening. It's after 6:00 pm that it all breaks down. It is 4:00 pm and all I've had today has been a forkful of scrambled eggs from Emma's plate. But come suppertime, it's "roll out the dumptrucks, mama's gettin' her feed on." And the frenzy doesn't stop until midnight.