I was thinking about this kid I knew in grade school. He was chunky. In fact, at lunch time he used to take a pencil and press it into the layer of fat that covered his stomach. He'd hold the pencil there for a moment and then expel it from the fold in his tummy fat with surprising force. As the pencil flew across the lunch room he'd say, "Hey! I'm a rocket launcher!"
Today he's an M.D. back in my home town.
I wonder if he does the same stunt only now with tongue depressors.
I just tried Dr. Rocket Launcher's trick myself. Fortunately it turns out I don't have enough fat to hold a pencil in place. Unfortunately I think I'm a mere four to five weekend rib binges away from becoming a rocket launcher.
Nobody wants to be a rocket launcher.
Now that I feel like a tub of goo I'll probably head to the grocery store and pick up the latest copy of Men's Health. Reading this magazine makes me feel as if I'm actually doing something to improve my health. So rather than change my diet or exercise I buy a magazine. Maybe I should call Dr. Rocket Launcher and see if he'd approve my fitness program. Who knows, I might be able to get our insurance company to underwrite the cost of a subscription.
The thing is I recently discovered that Men's Health is very popular with male homosexuals. That makes sense. There are always plenty of black and white pictures of super-fit men artfully peeling their shirts off. The problem is I'm self-conscious now when I buy the magazine. I realize I shouldn't give a crap if the check-out lady sees the magazine and wonders if I have a boyfriend. However I will admit that the ape-brain kicks in and needles me into arranging my other groceries around my magazine in the hope that no one will notice my purchase.
But that's not the only reason I turn the magazine upside down on the conveyor belt as if it were a copy of Huge Knockers Monthly. See, I'm pretty sure the check-out lady is smirking at me saying to herself, "Yeah, if anyone needs this magazine it'd be you, tubby."
It should be pretty apparent by now that I have a host of issues with the check-out lady.
So the next time I'm at the store I'll plop my copy of Men's Health right in front of the check-out lady and glare at her. "You got a problem with that?" I'll ask her. I'm sure she'll keep a wide eye on me as she swipes the UPC code. I'll throw my money toward her and say something like, "Yeah. I didn't think so. . ." and proudly march out of the store.
I know I'll begin feeling healthier immediately.
Here's something you don't see everyday: a new link on the link page.