Common themes of this fat camp are rearing their ugly heads like some reject Hindu deity. Chucky Cheese is of the devil, fried food is the only thing served in Hell’s commissary, and there is more to moderation than Scott Weiland once professed. Clearly, catching a midnight munch attack before my endocrine is car jacked can hedge my overall success, which seems to be doable with the help of a padlock on the pantry.
Day-to-day moderation is another thing… I have over heard the TV talking to the Cuisinart and ice maker that consumption is the only way to get these two-legged breeders out of this economic mess. Freaking electronic appliances are conspiring to make us all fat! I am Jarvis’ paranoid delusions.
Fortunate for me, the need to feed my children, dress them in the latest “OMGosh they are so cute” kiddy wear, and turn over all my folding money to my wife has given me the pleasure of knowing Grapes of Wrath, 1934 soup kitchen style moderation. When you ain’t have’n scratch in yo’wallet, its ez to eat in moderation!
Gots me some pretzels and dried apples mass’r.
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