So What If I Am Fat, I Have A Loving Disposition


Over the last thirty years, my doctors have told me to take the extra weight off.
Get in shape, or suffer a heart attack, stroke, or much worse, the inability to sustain an erection.
My body as a whole looks bad, but from the pulling and pulling,
my right arm could make the Olympic tug-o-war team.
I bragged to one female doctor that I have had my share of orgasms and hoped to one day have one with a woman present.

My docs just don’t understand how to achieve happiness. When I put a large Snickers bar in my mouth, for the thirty or forty seconds it takes to clear out the gooey chocolate peanut confection,
I am in a state of joyous euphoria.
How long does an orgasm last– half a second?
I look forward to the enormous sandwich that I eat before bedtime. Stacked with processed meats, a slab of Velveeta, and only Hellmann’s real mayonnaise. Sometimes it messes with my sleep, but the colorful, vivid dreams are worth it. I once dreamed that I was running through a field of pizzas being chased by a long salami.

One doctor asked me If I wanted to end up a disfigured blob of fat, sitting in a wheelchair, waiting for a diaper change. I went straight from his office to Burger King and ate a Double Whopper without even breathing until it was finished. It is eating like this in the face of impending doom that makes me wonder, “Am I frigging nuts?”

I have said this before, but, with baby steps, I’m going turn this around.
Bite-sized Snickers bars, fat free bologna, mustard instead of mayonnaise.
I can do it. I can give up my happiness for a long healthy life full of Romaine lettuce, celery, and skim milk.


Winter Foul, Spring Chicken


One winter many years ago, I put a noose around my neck and stepped off a chair.
My weight snapped the thin rope almost immediately, but not before the pipe that it was tied to pulled out of the ceiling and sprung a leak. Somehow I had cut my wrist. When a bead of blood came out of the scratch, I put a Band-Aid on it– with antiseptic. Boy! Did that sting!

I held an unloaded gun to my head for nearly half an hour. My arm got tired.
I learned something during this near-suicidal period.
I don’t have what it takes to knock myself off. This is a good thing.

Spring gets here, and my mood slowly changes. I don’t have to act happy or fake my good mood. It just comes back to me.
So, here I am again, and I’m thinking, get the rope out.
But, I know from experience– I can’t do it.
I’m chicken, and I can’t afford the plumbing bill.
Spring is coming. Spring is near. Carry on.

You Are Welcome Here


We are happy to share with you
all that we’ve got–
The leaks in the roof, our soup, my pot.

Stay as long as you like,
relax as you please,
no bugs, no cares, no fees.

Get up when you are ready,
go to bed when you please.
For beauty take a look at the trees.

It is cold now, the wind is howling,
take a long hot bath,
your fanny needs toweling.

You are welcome here
and will always be,
and best of all,
you can stay for free.

Visiting Grandma in Miami


We drove for twelve hours to get to Miami. We left my frozen hometown of Frederick, Maryland for the fun and sun, and a visit to my grandmother’s.
She lived in an apartment off the main drag. We would sit on her front steps and count the number of Rolls Royces that drove by. I was thirteen and fascinated by the women, the wealth and the beach.

Grandma said that we were being treated to dinner at Benihana’s by her rich friend, Agnes, who lived in Coconut Grove, and that we must be on our best behavior.
Agnes’s home was incredible. There was a maid who was raking the plush carpet all in one direction. She said, “That’s the way Miss Agnes likes it.”
The chef at Benihana’s put on a dazzling display with knives and spatulas. He could cook, chop, flip a shrimp in the air, and make it land precisely where he wanted it. He put one in my mouth–incredible.

Grandma asked Agnes if Ben, her husband, still played golf. She said, “No, he had to give up golf. He could not see his balls.”
This caused me and my brothers to bust out in laughter. Grandma was furious, until she saw Agnes laughing too, and then she joined us in our laughter.



A priest says to the rabbi, “You don’t eat ham?”
The rabbi says, “No, it is against our religion.”
The rabbi says to the priest, “You don’t make love to women?”
The priest says, “No, it is against our religion.”
The rabbi says, “You should try it– it’s better than ham.”

Farewell to All That


The holidays are over– hip hip hooray!
I’ve successfully made it through two weeks of continuous overeating, being nice to family, and partying
to the point that Elvis Presley would be proud. When I got on the scale this morning, it greeted me with “one at a time, please.”
I have diabetes, and I ate more cake, cookies, and chocolates on Christmas Day than the rest of the year. I poked my finger for a blood sugar check and molasses came out.

I gave great gifts and in return I got a plastic back scratcher, a sweater too big for King Kong, and a ten dollar gift card to the dirty book store. I know it is better to give than receive, but give me a break.
Even my dog turned on me. He woke me up on New Year’s Eve to let him outside, and when I stepped on the floor to get up off my bed, my foot squished into an enormous dookie he’d left me.
What a way to bring in the New Year–that stinks.

Turn out the lights, the party’s over, back to normal life, the holidays are done.

Polishing My Profile


My profile at must need some work. Of the thirty-five women I emailed, only one has responded, saying that because of my email she was closing her account. All I said was that I would like to spend two weeks with her one night.

Maybe it is my picture. I did wear a muscle shirt and my Elton John pink-rimmed sunglasses. My once massive biceps looked like mashed potatoes and mini fat rolls. I need to firm up, ditch the shades, and maybe just take a picture of my body below the belt. That half of me doesn’t look so bloated.

Stating that my income level is less than twenty thousand is not good for attracting women who are divorced and struggling to raise children. I’m not going to change that.
I did state that one of my hobbies was to watch movies in the dark and touch myself. I think maybe this is something women would like to know after two dates–certainly not right away.
I stated that I wanted somebody who can shovel snow, change a tire, dance the Watusi, and be able to do these things in the nude.

I think with a little padding and twerking of my profile, I’m going to meet some gorgeous babes.