There is absolutely nothing good on TV this week. And yet? I am morbidly obese. It should be the other way around! Normally—in the fall, winter, and spring—when my TiVo is brimming with succulent selections of TV offerings, my body is svelte, my muscles are hard, and my nipples? Perky. HOWEVER! Even though the past couple of weeks have been a goddamn TV wasteland, I'm gaining so much weight, I'm starting to resemble that walking tub of ass-butter Dr. Phil! So the next time I hear any "respected scientist" blaming the rise of national obesity on increased television viewing, I'm going to waddle right up to that skinny jerkface and say, "Television didn't cause my morbid obesity, blowhole! It was that goddamn ICE-CREAM MAN!"
Here's my sad tale: For the entire month of June, this newspaper's office was wildly ignored by the neighborhood ice-cream truck. There I would sit, working diligently on this column (or watching waterskiing-accident videos on YouTube) when I'd hear it far in the distance... the jingling electronic tones of "Turkey in the Straw!"
"IIIIIIIICCCCCEEEEEE CRREEEEAAAAAMMMMMM!" I'd loudly moan in a mentally handicapable way. Launching out of my seat, I would knock over computers and interns in a mad rush to get to the door. And yet? It's a little hard to buy ice cream from the ice-cream vendor when his goddamn truck is screaming past at 40 miles per hour!! Instead of delicious, sticky ice cream, all I would get was a mouthful of dust as the fading sound of "Turkey in the Straw" melted into the distance.
Well, one day I'd had enough, and I chased the ice-cream truck a humiliating 14 blocks before I finally stopped him and coerced him into making our office—and particularly my desk—a regular stop on his route.
That was one month ago. He has since showed up at our office EVERY SINGLE DAY, stopping his truck right outside my window. Then he beckons me: "Turkey in the Straw" blaring, waving a Choco Taco like he was a two-guilder whore in Amsterdam. HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO RESIST THAT?? HOW?!?
Anyhoo, 47 Choco Tacos later, look at me! Whoopee! I'm morbidly obese! And since the skinny people of the world openly despise my demographic, I suppose I should consider myself lucky that television happily caters to the 3.8 million fatsos in America, with weight-loss reality shows like The Biggest Loser (NBC, Tues, 8 pm), Dance Your Ass Off (Oxygen, Mon, 10 pm), and this week's debut of More to Love (Fox, Tues July 28, 9 pm). It's kind of like The Bachelor—that is, if the bachelor in question weighed 300 pounds and the 20 bachelorettes' cumulative weight equaled that of the moon.
But this is a really important show, you guys! More to Love is intended to prove that fatties like me deserve love and romance just like the rest of you "skinnies." And just because I can't see my penis when I look down doesn't mean it's not there. It works just like yours—and I know this because I looked in the mirror and... wait. What's that sound?