The Return of the Fatties


eating-at-hospital We broke the first rule of blogging, which is to keep blogging. Any and all excuses are lame, we agree, but you should know that we’ve battled many demons to return and are ready to weasel our way back into your hearts. If you’re ready to get back to action, stay tuned for our regular posting to continue tomorrow.

And for those interested, here’s the brief back story: This fatty experienced a little life interruption which required a break from the spotlight. Some of you may have pondered the April post for Vicodin Peach Fuzz… which now we see now was a bit of a foreshadow. Anytime narcotics enter this fatty’s regular diet, it’s inevitable that I’ll be checking in for a stay at the local hospital to expunge numerous kidney stones, battle the battalions of e-coli and ponder the value of life without a belly button. One stay turned into many more and eventually I spent many months at VM for rounds of surgical nonsense, while enduring excessive shots and drugs and hoards of tasteless hospice cuisine. And after this fatty spent the last year and a half knee deep in stale Jello, wall stucco disguised as cream of wheat and endless cans of warm Ensure, I’m ready to indulge in foody delights. Also, as I’m in stage 4 renal failure and heading for the finish line, I won’t be denying myself any normally naughty cuisines. Fry it, dip it in chocolate and roll it in bacon… just bring it on.

So despite all the attempts to snuff me out, I have obviously survived, all thanks to new infusions of hefty liquid narcotics, the support of my bestest Fattybuddy, my aging parentals and my in-house nurse boy, all who work together to keep me out of the noose every week. Thanks all… now let’s get back to the chow.


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