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One more year, and Brandon will officially become Ed Powers.
A wise man by the name of Ron Jeremy once imparted some words of wisdom to me that I will never forget. He said, "Are you going to eat that?" To which I replied, "Yes. Yes, I am going to eat that."
I never looked back from that day forward and I think the results speak for themselves. When I sit around the house, I sit around the house.
Basically, I am a sex slave in my own home. I wake up in the next room, go on my computer, and order dessert from a wide selection of whore d'oevres on offer daily in the Valley. Over 556 servings of those scrumptious little treats has taken its toll house cookies on my waistline as well as my psyche. I can't even masturbate because that would be like calling in sick to work. I am doomed to a life of receiving oral sex from women on the first date. Do not mock me; take pity on me. While you punch your clock, I punch the air above my bed just before noon and beg a Higher Power to give me one day of rest...just one. My pleas always -- ALWAYS -- fall on deaf ears.
I tried losing weight a while ago by going to Jenny Craig. She ended up blowing me, too, and will be update #604. Try as I might to shed some pounds, I just can't win.
I just can't win.
I'm enjoying some Chicken Soup for the Soul now. Not the book....actual chicken soup. Later, as I sit in bed with Haagen Dazs dripping off my chin, slipping into a diabetic coma masking itself as slumber, my last waking thought will be: What do you really hunger for, Brandon Iron....what??
Sleep the sleep of angels, dearest Ironman. You've had a hard day....a long, hard day.....again.
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