Why do we worry so much about weight in this country? What's wrong with a woman who has a little meat on her bones, huh? I mean, obviously women who weigh more have bigger chesticles. That oughta count for something.

Seriously, unless a gal (or guy) needs to knock off a few to get healthier, I don't get these salad lunches people are having. And I gotta tell ya...when we go out to dinner with a couple and the wife is skinny....she almost always will eventually ask one of us a question like, "Do you know how many calories are in that?" Personally in those moments, I have to fight the urge to knock the skinny priss off her chair. I don't know. I don't wanna know. I just wanna eat the damned thing. If I don't eat, I'm gonna end up lookin like this in my old age. No thanks!
And don't think I don't have my run ins with the scale...when I get on it....which I try not to.
Check it..........
Do I care? Obviously not.
And OO OO....here's a good one. I know all you ladies hate this stuff.
Do I care....nnnnooooooooo. Not particularly.
And as far as men go. I like a man with a little belly on him. I don't see a problem with it. Means he eats normal stuff and probably enjoys his chips during a football game. Who wants a man that's prettier than she is anyhow?

People...set yourself free. Eat a good meal! Enjoy your life. The weight comes and goes. It's normal. Trust me, it's more important to enjoy yourself and focus on the other guy and how much fun, he or she, is......er....or isn't....in which case, get desert too.

This has been a public service announcement from the folks at, Yummy Crab Vittles, inc.
You're welcome.

Labels: big appetite, big boobs, big butt, desert, football

Dear Miss Ellie,

This time you've really gone and done it. What were you thinking not telling us about the infection you had? If you weren't dead, I'd smack the pee out of you for this! How could you up and die on me? Leaving me with all this whacko family crap to deal with? All I can say is.... you go right now and borrow a tablet and pencil from St. Peter and start writing down all the ways you're gonna make this up to me.

Gripe #1. The princess.
Your daughter came into my home and commanded me to keep my dog away from her (which meant me standing outside in the cold with my dog) All the while she kept yelling my name, sending me up and down the stairs to "get Bob, right now!" I put up with it too. Even though she was sitting at my computer, in MY office, using my crap! Ok, I admit, I did finally snap. But she had it coming. It's one thing to be ordered around in your own home. It's another to be talked down to like some kind of lacky. When she told me if I wanted her to write "this obituary" I would have to make myself available to her (while also watching my dog outside) I blew. I told her, "I don't give a shit if you write it or not. If you'll pick your snotty ass up out of my chair I'll write the damned thing." But COME ON! How much can a person take?

To my credit I did turn down the heavy shot of scotch offered to me by my neighbor. (and wasn't easy!)

Sadly, your daughter can also be amazingly sweet which totally screws with my head. Is she a good witch? Or a bad witch? I DON'T FRIGGIN KNOW! One thing is for certain, she has an amazing talent for making people cry. She had 3 people crying and running to me for help her first day here. GeezLOOeeze, Ellie. What the hell did you feed that girl? Human flesh?

Gripe #2
The dog. I had to fight like all the demon's from hell to keep that googley-eyed little dog in the family. (Jake says she has one eye huntin' and one eye fetchin') Arrangements had been made without my knowledge to have the dog removed from your home the day of your funeral. Think I didn't blow a gasket that day? I'm lucky I didn't end up in a home with people who tear their hair out and talk to imaginary friends, thanks to you. But damned if I didn't get George to take Molly. He loves her now even though he swore he didn't want two dogs. Sometimes people just don't know what's good for them. Fortunately, they have me to point the way.

Gripe #3
How come you had a flashy blue bra in with all those old lady unders and never told me? Were you living a double life? No matter. I gave it to George. He looks good in it.

Gripe #4
Why thee hell is my picture in your attic? I REALLY want to know the answer to this one, missy! #1's picture sits in a place of honor in the living room and I"m in the attic. WHAT THE HELL? Well, that's fine, cuz I'm making art out of your toilet seat. I'm displaying it in my front yard with your name and butt print on it. How ya' like that? HUH?

Gripe #5
How could you just leave like that without giving me a chance to say good-bye? Maybe...not saying yes, not saying no, but just maybe, I loved you. Ever think of that? Maybe I miss you. And maybe, possibly, you've left me with a big hole in my chest. When all the lights are out at night, maybe I remember and remembering hurts so bad I can hardly stand it. And it makes me angry at you for leaving like that when you didn't have to. Even more angry than I get with your snotty daughter when she talks to me like I'm the hired help.

Gripe #6
You didn't even leave directions to Heaven. Where is it? Up? Down? All around me? How do I find you again? When I need to talk to you, where do I go?

Not to make you jealous or anything but there were several deserts at your reception. and they were all delicious. PLEBBBT!

Labels: blue bras, death, desert, dogs, google eyes, heaven, hell, witches