Who, what, when, where, and why? Wine, whiskey, www, Wally, and whiskey. There’s one more. Wait. That’s it, wait! Wait for way more whiskey! I stand corrected. What are you looking at? Nose face! FYI, lesbians hate it when you smell their faces. You know, because of reasons.
—DG.
Maybe it’s an oversight on the part of the Internet police, but I don’t think anyone is paying attention to the comments on YouTubers videos. They should be censored, but they are not. So, if you make a controversial video, it will be removed, but if you make a controversial comment on a banal video, all is well in the universe. It’s a new hobby of mine; look for me there.
—DG.
Ok, so I just realized that whiskey is not a hydrator. Drinking whiskey while working out makes you even more thirsty. The time passes quickly, but you tend to get rather parched and in need of a nap. You know, in case you were thinking of taking a bottle of Jameson with you to the gym. Like I did. By “accident.”
—DG.
Liposuction: it means fat sucking. DIY liposuction involves using the turkey baster attachment on your vacuum cleaner to extract the fat from your waist and thighs. No exercise required. The only easier way for me to lose 20 pounds of ugly fat would be to cut off my head.
Instead of Fight Clubbing the sucked out goo into soap, I would probably turn it into refined lard. Then I could use it in pies and pancakes, as a form of ultimate recycling. Lose weight while eating pie.
Oooh. Now I really want pancakes. The Korean kind, where you whip the egg whites and fold them into the batter to make it extra fluffy. Yeah, that’s the ticket. Pancakes fried in lard. Human lard. All natural human lard. And pancakes. I am going to need a new vacuum cleaner.
—DG.
Although I have grudgingly accepted the fact that at least some amount of exercise is inevitably in my future, the conundrum of how best to get it remains. Doing anything resembling a sport is, for obvious reasons, definitely out. A few years ago, before I became completely doughy, I had worked up to running five miles a day. Unfortunately, I had to stop, though, because the cost of taking an Uber to get home was starting to be significant. Besides, it’s really hard to keep the whiskey from sloshing out of a crystal glass when I run, and I refuse to drink good liquor out of a sippy cup.
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Inside Doug's Head 