but i disagree.

the reason im a huge cow is because i like mayonnaise and french fries and beer and doritos.

and oreos.

and because for the first time in my life i have an appetite and my stomach doesnt tie in knots after i eat a full meal.

there was a time in college where i couldnt even eat half a slice of pizza from Pizza Bob’s without my stomach complaining like mad. the only remedy was a half bottle of pepto bismol and a rip from a 6 footer. i was sick all the time because i had no nourishment inside me to fend off the most common ailments.

today i can eat a full breakfast, lunch, dinner, dessert and snack and not only does my stomach hang in there with me but it even has started offering up suggestions. “why dont you try out that new japanese place?” “ever been to that one korean joint?”

back in the day a hot dog would be the worst idea ever as every foul ingredient would cause the most spectacular explosion on the way down and as it traveled out, but nowadays i can devour it all and lick my fingers of excess mustard and ketchup and mayo and beer.

finally i feel alive.

and you know why i feel alive? because i am alive. because the cubs are winning and i have a job that i love and im surrounded by people who respect me and because im doing the things that i want. but mostly because i can eat like the beast that i was meant to be.

i am a man. men are not supposed to eat lean cuisine. men are not supposed to have anything that says weight watchers in their cupboards. men are supposed to die young and fat and with a smile on our faces. we’re supposed to have heart attacks rounding second during sloshball. we’re supposed to have strokes chasing some mamacita up a stairwell as she giggles and then screams at the discovery. we’re supposed to croak behind a saloon after a night of one too many after stepping in the alley for a little fresh air because something wasnt right.

we’re supposed to go out like men in the gutter next to the trash in a puddle of standing water and piss.

and life.

thank you.