Humor

It seems I'm doomed to repeat the same mistakes over and over. Maybe I'm being a bit melodramatic. I do usually learn from my mistakes. But sometimes I try something, look back to analyze it, and realize it's really not that different from the other things I've tried. “Hello Abby. Will you be staying long?” There are lots of reasons why I believe I'm abnormal, but today I'll just highlight one of them. We can save my various other flaws for analysis at a later date.

Thank you very much for your thoughtful letter. After having checked my list (twice, even!), I see that you have been mostly good this year, despite that incident where you incited that riot. Since you felt that you where acting in everyone's best interests, I'm sure that we can let that one incident slide this year. Rest assured that I will be able to provide you with the majority of the items on your wish list, with the exception of this Winona Ryder person you wish for me to leave under your tree. We here at S. Clause Incorporated have strict rules against slavery of any kind, and feel that Ms. Ryder would not appreciate your request that she be wearing only two things: BUCK and NEKID. Need I remind you of the restraining order that Ms. Ryder requested last year for Christmas?

Well, summer is all most at an end now, and I'm sure we all had fun camping out, toasting pork rinds over a roaring campfire while our non-low carb friends polluted their systems with jet-puffed sugar marshmallows burnt to a crisp at the end of wooden sticks. I tell ya, who needs s'mores when you can enjoy some sweet gouda and cauliflower melted betwixt two crisp-fried pork chops?

So what's your motivation for switching from high-carb society to the fast-paced, dangerous world of low-carbing? For me, it was simple. I was tired of having my 410-pound Mountain of Meat body getting in the way of finding a mate. My parents are getting on in years, and every family function serves as another opportunity for "The Speech" from my father. He'll gather us, his children, at his feet and make his plea.

I have recently come to the conclusion that my goddaughter, Brittany, is the devil. At the tender age of eight, it is already apparent to me that she is going to be one of those beautiful, rail-thin-yet-muscular "beach babes" that say things like, "I wish I could gain weight as easily as you do. I just eat, and I eat, and I eat, and I can never get those nice, childbearing hips like you have! It seems like the only place I ever do gain any weight is in my breasts!"