By now you’re old enough to read, unless I cheaped out and sent you to public school, which as of this writing is a distinct possibility due to my escalating gambling and Mexican speedball addictions. Regardless, you’ve probably figured out that you were named after an Airwick plug-in scent. I kind of thought you’d never have to know that, but as it turns out, Airwick doesn’t retire scents as often as I figured they would. Who would have thought Jasmine Breeze would be a best-selling fragrance? But it’s a great name for my princess. After all, YOU are MY best selling fragrance. And by “fragrance” I mean “prostitute”.  That’s really what this letter is about.

Daddy needs you to step up your game, honey. I didn’t shell out all of that money for the skin graft just to have you spend your time at the park NOT hooking. The monkey-bars are a privilege, not a right. You’re 6 or 12 now and it’s about time I start seeing a return on my investment. You’re getting older now, and quite frankly. depreciation is going to kill us.  The keyword here is VOLUME.

The longer it takes for you to make one of your “uncle’s” happy, the less money daddy has to spend in front of Jungle Gold, Cherry Fever, and 2001: A Space Slotessey. Besides, you like it when I come home from The Chocktaw Nugget and bring you those tiny umbrellas and swizzle sticks with the fun colored tips.  Barbie looks just like a beautiful Geisha when you stick them in her hair. So, let’s work on that turn-around and get that number up. Now, daddy loves you, so this is going to hurt me more than it hurts you (in every way except in vaginal/anal pain…you’ve got me beat on that one) but I’ve got no choice: I’m upping your quota. Don’t cry, my little peanut. I’m serious, don’t cry. Remember why you needed that skin graft? That’s right, because when you cry, daddy can’t concentrate on the game, and he has a lot of money riding on North Carolina, and if he doesn’t beat the point spread, he might have to take a long trip out of state  for a few years. So, it’s very important that you shut the fuck up when the goddamn game is on, just like I say every time the goddamn game is on,  but it’s a point you seem to ignore, and the goddamn game is drowned out by the screams of  “I’m bleeding from my money pot again, daddy!”. IT WILL STOP IF YOU STOP PICKING AT THE SCABS.

Before I go on, I should tell you that *YES* I realize how girlie it seems for dudes to be talking about weight and dieting. But wake up, America is one giant, fatty pubic puff of a country. So, despite how faggy you may feel this post is, chances are you need to do the same.

Despite what doctors and recovering anorexics tell you, you lose weight by starving yourself. It’s a MEDICAL FACT. I should know, I talk about adult babies and snot fetishes for a living. Your body has to burn more calories and fat than it is taking in in order to drop the #’s. So, with a combination of a disgusting fat-free food diet and shuffling your ass around vigorously, positive results are just around the corner! How’s that for a pep talk?

Not everyone NEEDS to workout, persay. My life is so sedentary, it’s not uncommon for people to poke me with sticks and shit to see if I’m awake/alive.  Obviously, I need to make an effort to actually waddle about for a bit. I’ve been using WiiFit (because I’m a dork) but I mostly just stick with push ups, jackknifes, and running. The rest of the crap on there is just that: crap. I fail to see how extending your arms and swaying from right to left does any good unless you’re 85 with arthritic joints. My parents also gave me (oh God, I can barely type out the words) a Tony Little Gazelle they had stored. If you get the chance to use one of the machines, do yourself a favor and place a mirror right in front you. It makes you run like a retard greeting his parents after the first day of school. EMBARASSING. But I guess it works.

This is not to say I’m still not a whale, but I’m less of one. 13 or 14 more pounds and I’ll be back to my old weight.

(@philcooper) told me I should be following some whacked out Pro Anorexia/Bulimia girls who had recently started tweeting. For those of you who don’t know,  these are girls who share tips on throwing up and starving themselves.  Natrually, I was interested. As a matter of fact, there are whole online communities devoted to this “lifestyle”.  Sample post from an ana/mia blog:  ”Is it normal that I can’t stop pooping blood?” As if it’s EVER normal to be shitting out Lake Superiors worth of blood from your anus. “Did you drink a lot of coffee?”

Here’s the rundown of what happened:

distortedview: Thanks @philcooper for telling me about @pro_ana FANTASTIQUE!. All should be following for some good tips and tricks to look FABULOUS

pro_ana: Girls please block these twitterers. RT @Distortedview @philcooper

Ok, in my opinion, the pro_ana girls over-reacted by far. I didn’t write anything particularly mean!(yet) Besides, isn’t that why they’re on twitter? To spread some thinspiration? What the hell is stuck up their asses? Probably coffee grounds, wine, or some other sure-fire enema solution.

distortedview: Oh, @pro_ana , lighten up. and by lighten up i mean LOSE SOME WEIGHT.

hunger4plesur: RT @pro_ana: Girls please block these twitterers. RT @Distortedview @philcooper

Skinnyscorpio: @pro_anaum. wtf? Why do people choose to pick fights with others on twitter, who they don’t even know? fuckin’ jerks!

GitEmSteveDave: @Distortedviewlooks like Timmy messin’ with the Ana-mia kids again.

pro_ana: Girls more twitterers 2 block: @GitEmSteveDave @wellithinkso RETWEET!

And on and on went the RT’s calling for my blocking. One little comment sent these girls into a frenzy, and I have to tell you, it was the most fun I’ve had on twitter since I used my cellphone in the bathroom to ask my followers to guess the type I shit I was taking. I lurve technology.