Wednesday, January 16, 2008
polls closed late last night in this hotly contested race for the fattest wallace offspring -- a race marred by negative campaigning, election fraud and ballot irregularities. chocolate baby took an early lead until a wellspring of beefy voters, including unregistered international voters from brazil -- GARY -- put their ginormous candidate in the jumbo-sized spotlight big enough to accommodate his large hindquarters and thighs. candidates traded soft dimple-fisted jabs. chocolate baby thundered that beefy's jaba the hut-like tongue was winning intimidation votes, beefy's camp countered with a comparison of chocolate baby's cake-soaked pony tails to devil's horns while reminding voters that his fluffiness was accumulated in just 3 short months of life on breast milk while it took chocolate baby a full year AND solid foods to gain those jowls. when chads were found both in the fleshy folds of will's floatation-device arms and partially digested in eliza's chocolatey diaper, election officials demanded a recount... that just made the results more confusing. follow this math: 68 votes, 36 per candidate, giving both candidates 52 percent of the vote. that's right. both fatties have more than half of the popular vote. in a race that flies in the face of simple math, the people have spoken: both babies are the winner.
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
we all know there's nothing so cute as a fat baby. may i present two of the fattest babies i know: my niece, eliza bell wallace (the chocolate-covered baby suffering from dunlap's disease, as in her gut "done lapped" her diaper waistband) and right below her you'll find my nephew, will, whose man breasts are literally pouring through my sister's fingers. obviously we wallaces have a healthy respect for food, even early on. don't you just want to bite their cute little segmented bodies?
Monday, January 7, 2008
I don’t find much occasion to frequent the suburban shopping carnival that is Costco… seeing that I’m normally a good thousand miles from my address and I’m shopping for one, I both don’t need that 250 ounce jar of peanut butter, I wouldn’t know where to put it.
I know Costco has groceries from my annual duck beach shop-a-thon. (And I have to stop here and give pause for the PMS-addled Costco run of a few years back with Jamie. Almost as people friendly as the Halloween we dressed up like mimes so we wouldn’t have to talk to anybody.) But who knew that Costco had books? Clothing? Furniture? Electronics?! Free samples of food!! I went this weekend with my sister seeking a late Christmas present for a niece, a gallon of milk and an Ipod. Pish posh, I thought. Not in one stop, I was so wrong. There is a whole convenient world of shopping in that concrete warehouse of cheap and various goods. I found myself exclaiming: I love America! No where, in all my travels have I seen something so conveniently miraculous (and thrifty!) as this indoor shopping bizarre.
And then I noticed something. I noticed China. It was freaking everywhere. EVERYTHING WAS MADE IN CHINA. Toys, clothes, furniture and for dang sure the electronics and the plasma tvs. I just wanted to find ONE made in the USA label. I was a searcher – up one aisle, down the other. Past the miles of linens and fields of kitchen appliances, the legions of games and yard ornaments, on to the tubs of jeans and jackets, around the corner to the prairie land of furnishings. I found a few Canada labels and a handful of Made in México’s but not one American flag staking claim of workmanship. I’m no John Bircher but can I get a witness on this? This ain’t good. We want industry and manufacturing jobs with benefits but we don’t want to pay anymore than a buck fifty for a bedroom suite. Costco is the microcosm – or the microCostcoism – of all that is wrong with America and our economy. That’s what I’m going to call it and see if that’s a word we Americans can rally around. End microCostcoism today, I say! Catchy? Anyone? Is this mic on?
And ps – I finally broke free of the gravitational pull that is Yorktown last night. Yes. That’s a two-week (unpaid) Christmas vacation for me. And I’m not saying leaving is a good thing. I hate hate hate to leave my family. I’m so lucky that my family rocks and they also just happen to be my BFFs. I’m feeling the bagpipes tonight. Love you guys.