I declare this week, the week of Big Tom! All facets of my life are coming together at once. Let’s list the ways…

• I’ve gone from being unemployed, to being considered for a Manager in Training at a Fortune 500 company (it’s essentially a CEO in Training position, I’m being groomed baby!).
• Went from making girls vomit at the mere mention of my name, to having a date at a place that doesn’t have sporks, to even getting some even lovin’. All in one week. Eat your heart out, Ryan Gosling, you handsome fuck you.
• I met Carly Rae Jepson and she told me to “Call her, definitely”

In celebration of my accomplishments, I did my usual jumping of the Tom. I apologize to any news networks in the surrounding area that falsely reported that earthquake.

Look at this America. Look. This chair is supposedly “Made in the USA” and it snaps under my 350 pounds of pure muscle. This chair should be honored I’d put my derrière near it and what does it do? It breaks. It probably didn’t feel worthy. That’s it. Same excuse I tell myself when women run in the opposite direction as me.

And this material called “steel” doesn’t seem too strong, probably just used when American manufacturing plants want to cut corners. I’m buying only Chinese-made products from now on, those 10 year old Chinamen working 20 hour days while I sit on the couch eating mayo-covered cheesy poofs is something I can relate to and admire.

My doctor was urging me to pick up a sport, or else I’d end up having my own TV show on TLC called “The man turning tricks for Big Macs”. So I tried basketball and football, but that required… movement… so yea… no. And with swimming comes shrinkage, and I gotta show the ladies what I’m working with, ya know? But then as always, it came to me. Golf.

Golf is a game of skill, precision and finesse, unfortunately I have none of these. Instead I have canned hams for hands, and kielbasas for fingers. Speaking of food, I just discovered the best part of golf. CART LADY, 8 MORE HOT DOGS!

I won! I won! After 22 years of being a perpetual loser I have finally won something that isn’t the lame “Heart Award” or “Best Attitude” awards on my middle school baseball teams. A real prize I can bring home to mamma.

So I’m relaxing at my favorite sandwich shop, enjoying my usual brunch footlong when I hear about a contest the store has. Eat a gallon of mayo in 20 minutes and win a $20 cash prize along with a trophy. Umm… anyone questioning the existence of a God can just stop now, this is a miracle.

Sure, the gallon mayo cost me $30 to buy… but I ate that gallon in 13 minutes flat. Boom. $20 tax free dolla dolla bills. So I got it in singles and now I’m basking in the glow of victory. Get on my level.

The strangest thing happened today at dinner. I was eating sushi like I usually do, 7 at a time. Then I felt something. I know it’s crazy, I can’t even describe this feeling correctly. For the first time in 22 years, I was full. I was in agony, a plate full of food and I couldn’t stomach another bite. Is this what normal people feel like after every meal? Good God I’ll kill myself if I have to endure this pain even one more time. 

Never mind, just a little gas. A quick toot and a loosening of the belt later and I’m back baby! 

Waiter! Waiter! If I don’t have 30 more California Rolls in front of me within 10 minutes no tip for you!

You know what grinds my gears? What really chaps my ass? What ruffles my feathers more than anything else?

When my roommates make food and try to hide it from me. Where do they come off making themselves a hot dog and not giving me at least half of it? So this afternoon I’m taking my usual 5 hour power nap when I smell it. Oh boy do I smell it. Meat. My notrils flare, my pupils dilate, my heart starts racing. It’s go time.

I jump out of bed. I sleep in my jeans in case of emergencies like this. I rush into the kitchen and I see it, my worst fear. My roommate finishing the last bite of the hot dog. I’m giving him the silent treatment for the rest of the day. That’ll teach him!

Sorry I’ve been lacking on the updates, my mother has taken away my internet privileges for talking back! Can you believe that? I know right?

She takes away my jar of peanut butter because apparently eating 2 whole jars while watching Days of Our Lives isn’t normal for her. I have to eat while I watch my stories though? So I tell that ho to give me back my PB or else I’ll call my pappy up and tell on her. So I get put in time out in the corner of my room for being a bad boy, but jokes on her because I’m a straight baller and I always have my bluetooth on me in case my bitches want to hit me up ya know? I don’t care if I look like a tool while I use it I gotta be connected to the cloud, duh!

So I call up the pops on my bluetooth and he doesn’t even care! And since I called my mom a ho I’m not getting second dinner tonight! Worst day ever.

Let me introduce you to my one true love.
She is pictured right above.
It used to be my left hand.
But that was getting pretty bland.
Now everything is crystal clear. 
I was born to love shitty beer.
She makes me fat and makes me leer.
Hear, hear! For shitty beer!