Dear Santa...

Please get here soon. I'm one sugar cookie short of a metric ton. I read the box. Each cookie has 8 grams of fat...before the frosting. Multiply that by 22, divide by 8 carry the 7....yeah math isn't my thing. I can only assume the numbers aren't working in my favor. In addition to gorging myself beyond recognition, I'm sick of being nice to people I don't like in the name of holiday spirit. If I hate you between January and November...it's a safe assumption I'll feel the same way in December. Any outward displays of affection to the contrary should be taken as a futile attempt at scoring a gift. Much like my fake boobies, my tree is one of the genetically altered persuasion. I find fake trees to be perky and without sag. Funny, a $40 tree gets more action than $5000 worth of plastic surgery. Perhaps Santa can fix that. Is it wrong to ask for sex for Christmas? It's what you get the girl who has everything and gets nothing. Maybe he can send me an elf to bang. I can do short if it comes with a good package. I'm an EOF...Equal Opportunity Fatty for those of you who rode the short bus and still should. I'll make sure Santa sends you a shiny new helmet.

Being that I love to cook (about as much as I enjoy a raging case of crabs), I often watch the Today Show to see what everyone's cooking up for the holidays. Beyond annoying. Every food segment is about cutting calories.  It's the socially acceptable eating season! I don't want to hear about the takeaway! Save that shit for January when I reinvent myself for the 38th time. Mind you "old me" will linger into June but I definitely start planning in January. "Use a smaller plate . Have just one cookie and walk away (laughable). Pour your drink on your food when you are full" ( I am personally offended by this one...wasting a good drink to ruin good food all in the name of fullness). I don't need tricks. I gots mad skills. In the name of good will to men...I mean women...I could give a rats ass about willingly giving anything else to men...in any event...in the name of good will to women I give you my holiday secret: Elastic waist pants. Get you one of those disco ball shirts to cover up the band and eat until you are tired. Hell throw on a belt if you feel the need to have a waistline. I don't give a damn. That's how you cut calories....you cut them from the skinny bitches who try all those stupid tricks and end up in the bathroom gorging on the ham biscuits they stuffed in their pockets when they thought no one was looking. I was looking. When it comes to food I'm always looking. I see you. Caloric whores.

As I see it, I have about a week and a half to fit as many calories as humanly possible into what's slowly becoming a non-human like frame. I fear I'm beginning to resemble a Yettie. If I start seeing people randomly snapping pictures and making molds of my foot prints I shouldn't assume it's for a star on Hollywood Blvd?More like a segment on Sci-fi. Fame is fame sisters. I know I'm at the pinnacle of laziness when I get dressed to run in 30 degree weather, head out the door, run 1 mile, come back in the house and eat a donut. It must be December. It's hard to believe in just 1 month I'll be eating salads and reading Fitness magazine again. I hate fuckin salad! Why does every diet consist of stupid vegetables and dead game? Can't we all just get along? My friend Val knows a guy who makes homemade croutons. I think they are the enemy but I feel like I'm gettin one over when I sneak a few.  I hear he fries them in pig fat. Well I didn't say I was becoming a vegetarian did I? I know this, "New Me Monday" is going to be more painful than ever. I have spent the last 3 months working over the food pyramid. I fear it's more of a rectangle of carbs and fat at this point. Sort of like my figure. That's the great thing about being married (notice that statement is not plural)- if you don't give me sex... you get to spend the entire winter lying next to Orca the killer wife...complete with non-pedicured toes and full bush. Yummy. The not so endangered species around these parts.

 So I hope you all get what you want for Christmas. Remember the reason for the season....FOOD! Contrary to popular belief it is NOT better to give than to receive. Unless you are re-gifting in which case just make sure you aren't giving it back to the person who gave it to you. I've done that. My mother in law wouldn't take back her son. I wonder how much wrapping paper it will take to wrap my husband? I'm doing a gift exchange for Brad Pitt. Dr. Drew says Angelina is strung out on heroin so I figured now's my opportunity to show Brad what it feels like not to hit bone. A little fatty reverb is in order. Oh...yeah...mental note...do not include return address when shipping husband to cracked up A-Jo. Merry Christmas Fatties!