Fat People, and a Dance

The nation really needs to quit it with the whole health conscious approach. Yes, we'd all like to have less junk in our trunk, and maybe then other countries would take us more seriously, and we'd be happier, blah blah blah whatever.

But have you considered the side effects of quitting your junk food binges? HAVE YOU? Probably not, because I know I was all for a sexier new nation until Monday, when I realized that all of you salad eaters are putting me out of a job. Quite seriously. No one is buying fast food anymore! I mean, some people are, but it's not like it used to be, in the golden days.

Bring back love handles, people, before you starve me into the streets! Oh for the love of all that is good and decent, listen to Damien Rice and learn to love your double chin. And order a pizza, before it's too late.

In other, happier news, I have a date to the big dance, which means I get to dress all pretty-like, and I get to pretend that I like shouting small-talk into the ears of overheated people I barely know who don't quite care, but they can't hear me well enough to KNOW that they don't care. My date has been nominated to be Mr. SVU, which means he's practically the most popular boy in school. I am waiting for the "Ricky Mania" posters and the clods of screaming, adoring fans. And the witchcraft. Oh, the witchcraft. (See what you have done to me, Teen Witch? Do you see this? This is all your fault. Yours, and the eighties.)