WTFWJCVDD – Edition Sixteen

Quality vs. Quantity

There is no doubt that in the present day culture, social awareness is becoming more prevalent. The fact that America is the most obese nation in the world, health is one major issue. Belonging to a gym, carrying around a nalgene with water, and becoming a vegetarian are all socially rewarding things to do.

A little while ago I had an appointment with my doctor. She (yes, she – I’ll get to that) told me I need to start paying closer attention to my diet. I told her that I eat fine and am active so my body uses everything I consume as fuel anyway. She suggested I start taking protein shakes and increasing my vegetable intake. I was skeptical because I consider female doctors to be a level above elementary school nurses. So why do I go to one? I like the fact that she stands me up, gets on her knees and at eye-level, drops my boxers to check my nuts – it’s a big selling point. At this age of my life I’ve rubbed one out to just about everything, and any extra ammo I can use on a night when my Internet goes down is worth it. In contempt of my cynical view, I agree to try out this new diet.

Despite supposedly eating better, this new regiment really messed with my stomach. I constantly felt bloated and started crapping four or five times a day – I felt like a chick without the benefits of seeing myself naked or having the ability to see how hard I could squeeze my tits before they popped. This posed an issue because I work all day and the sand paperesque toilet paper in public bathrooms gives me baboon ass after the first couple of deuces dropped.

About a week or two after visiting the doc, I had some brutal gas. I was sitting at my desk and I let out the most unholy rip I have ever unleashed. Since it was a busy day, I was unable to get up to walk away or even get the opportunity to shake out my pants to help the insidious odor dissipate. I had no choice but to inhale my rancid mildew stench which made my next breath not containing O2, but pure shit in gaseous form. I ended up getting light headed – from the combination of little oxygen mixed with poo particles – and passed out for a half second. Turns out, that brief moment was long enough to cause my head to slam into my desk. This resulted in me being taken to the hospital and was completed with five stitches to my brow. Please, let us recap: I changed my diet to be healthier which led to me becoming gasy which in turn led to my inhalation of airborne doodie which then made me pass out and bust my head open. Was it really healthier for me to eat better if this was the result? Not to mention a nice little $450 ER bill for my two hour wait and brief stint being treated.

I decided then and there that life is not about quantity. Fuck living to ninety when your family decides your such a burden that they hate you and you actually have a reason to wear adult diapers and say, “thanks oops I crapped my pants.” To me it’s all about quality. I want to live my life now. I want to eat a steak that is almost raw five days a week because I feel like it. I want to include Red Bull in my glass of vodka. What is the point of eating healthier? I can go shopping at Whole Foods and buy all healthy and natural organic foods just in time for me to walk out of the store and get hit by a bus. My goal is to eat and drink whatever I so chose, say what I feel, and shit where I please. If I live a year past 50, I didn’t live life right. Life is not about dragging it out as long as possible. It’s about living it to the fullest and appreciating everything. If I make it to fifty-one, I’ll simply order a hooker (which should be legal by that time considering how morally flexible today’s politicians are) and suffocate myself between a set of brand new fake Nerf tits (I think those will exist then too).

Until the next Kumate …

For your consideration:
Why does paper beat rock? Rock should beat everything.