A couple of days ago my heart hurt a lot throughout the day. Honestly – because I’m usually a shit faced liar, so whenever I tell the truth I need to first specify I’m doing so – at points it scared me. Out of laziness I didn’t go to the doctor’s. Also aside from being lazy I have this twisted theology that based on the alignments of planets when we’re born and the size of our parents internal organs all of our deaths are predetermined and no matter what we can’t stop, or rather prolong, them. Okay, that’s obviously complete bullshit, but because I’m an honest guy I feel I should be careful and specify when I’m lying/joking. But what isn’t a joke is my terrible eating habits (good segue, man) thanks, it took me hours to work on that.
I don’t look the part, but I eat like an obese whale (you eat mass amounts of plankton?) on occasion – I wonder if other whales go around making fun of obese whales like, ‘look at you, you’re so fat, you weigh 20 tons while I’m a respectable 15 tons,’ and another thought, wild animals don’t get obese, it’s only us domesticated doomed that eat in excess and pack on the pounds, my cat is the size of my entire upper body for God’s sake, but I’m pretty skinny. Actually, what’s worse than eating a lot is eating unhealthily. I eat chips whenever I get the chance, I down soda after soda when I go out, I cover my butter in salt and then put it in a tub of lard and pretend I’m bobbing for apples. That’s a joke to a certain extent. I do eat a ton of butter. When I eat microwave popcorn that’s flavor is ‘extra butter’ I of course have to melt my own butter and add extra butter to make it to my liking. Today I ate a whole thing of movie theatre popcorn (the big bucket) that my mom brought home last night. I ate every last kernel. Why am I not fat? (Crazy amount of exercise in the form of masturbation?) possibly. I do exercise on occasion, and I mean real exercise, or at least exercise that works out more then just my right arm, and on occasion my left arm and other special occurrences the arms of that cute Latino boy down the street. That’s a joke people (they know by now you’re always joking) I don’t trust them.
I’ve been blessed with the metabolism of a God, or an Olsen twin, although I have a feeling their metabolism never got a chance to work on most of the food they ate. Bulimia is serious though, and it’s sad that many more girls then I would have ever expected resort to it to fit into some bullshit standards of how a girl should look. But enough about serious stuff, let’s get back to my God like figure (your figure isn’t God like, your metabolism is) whatever. I can’t get fat. It’s a proven fact right up there with gravity, the sky being blue and The Expendables being the most badass movie ever – firstly, I’ve only seen the first half of The Expendables and it was pretty badass but not super badass but definitely more badass than Eat, Pray, Love…and secondly some asshole/nerd is going to say ‘the sky isn’t blue, we only perceive it that way’ and then me also being an asshole/nerd will respond with ‘technically it’s only perceived as blue during daylight hours, so as far as I’m concerned we’re both dumbasses’.
Because I can’t get fat I probably eat worse than I would if I were ever in danger of getting fat. My arteries probably look like that of Marlon Brando’s in his last years, while my body looks like that of Marlon Brando when he was in On The Waterfront, “I could have been a contender” (you overuse that quote) it was quoted in Newsradio so I love it – I’ve never actually seen On The Waterfront, nor will I ever. My trim, yet boyish, figure deceives me, and makes me think I’m healthier than I really am, until a few days ago, when my body gave me a rude awakening.
I’m used to having heart problems, but usually it’s the strife of love, which is actually more mental anguish then physical. I realize I’m going to die young, but I didn’t know it would be from a heart attack (That’s said as if you know you’re going to die from a heart attack) I’m confident I will. It will be frontpage headlines all over the world ‘Boy With Body of Adonis but Heart of John Goodman, and gold, Dies Prematurely. America Mourns Great Loss.’ (You don’t have the body of Adonis) Time will show then he was in fact average bodied and not incredibly good looking (Time won’t show anything, he’s a fictional character) time will tell with that too.
I thought about death often during my heart pains. I was afraid that I would go too early, never getting the pleasure of making out a will. I plan on doling out every last one of the items in my possession: ‘to my third cousin Bert who I’ve never met or even knew about until he befriended me on Facebook, there is a desk manufactured during World War One that my Great Grandfather procured during his time in France, you may have your choice of one piece of gum that I stuck to the bottom of it.’ What a joyous process will making must be.