What's for dinner, my preciousss

Umm, ya, so like I’ve put on a few pounds the last few years. I tell people that I’m not fat, but that I’m storing up precious energy reserves in case I get stranded during the winter. When the machines take over and the food supply dries up, all you skinny people, well, you’ll be the first to go. Not me, I’ll be leading the resistance, still alive, thanks to my pre-planned energy reserves.

Look, when you’re fat, you’ve got options. I mean think about it. I can go days without eating. You skinny folks, you’ll die. If a gale force wind blows up, no problem, I can walk right through it. I’ve got MASS. Skinny folks, well, they’ll just blow away. When it’s really hot and sunny out, I throw off enough cool shade that small children and pets can take a break from the heat. What good are skinny folks when it’s hot out, except for getting me another soda, bitch. If I’m in a plane crash in the Andes, I can let the skinny folks share all of the blankets and huddle like sheep together, ‘cause I brought my own insulation.

I make all of you skinny folks feel better about yourselves when you look at me. Because I know, without your outrageously good looks, well toned bodies, and the ability to wear anything and look like a million dollars, you’re really an empty husk inside. Well, at least that’s my story and I’m sticking with it.
__________________________________________________________________
Ok, so the other day, I heard some random trivia on the radio. I hurried home and promptly told my wife:
“The average American male adds three pounds of weight on a year”
She looked back at me with a blank look on her face. So I continued:
“See, if you take how long we’ve been married, multiply it by three, carry the two, divide by the square root of Pi and add it onto the weight I was when we got married, you come up with my exact weight.”
Not bothering to interrupt whatever mission critical task that she was undertaking at that point, she casually threw back at me “Well, I don’t care how you come up with it, you’re still fat”.
But, but…what about the statistic?
“Well, I guess on average you’re getting as fat as the rest of America. Congratulations, tub-o, you’re an average fattie.” Then she turned to look at me and asked “Let me get this straight, if you live to be 100, that means you’re going to weigh, like, 1,000 lbs., right?”
No mercy.