"Maintain Your Girth" Famous Recipes, Part 1: Stein's Krissmus Puddin'

So here's the dish. This recipe was inspired during instant message discussions with my friend Jason Stein. This fellow fat man had spent an entire semester in England, and was sorely disappointed with their cuisine's lack of flavor. So we decided to take your average guacamole and turn it into something special in honor of his return. What better way to maintain your massive presence this Holiday season than by spooning heaping shovel loads of festive colored fat down your pie-hole?

What makes it Krissmussy? It's green and it's red and past that you won't care because you'll be in a diabetic coma. So shut the hell up and wrap your lips around this delicacy. And all you nose-ringed English majors who pour over-priced coffee for a living, don't be all whiny and jump down my massive throat just because I like debasing the English language by spelling Krissmus a gifted way.

3 avacados
4 strips of bacon (2 for the recipe and 2 to keep on hand for snackage and calorie loss prevention)
2 cloves garlic
1 small red onion
1 small tomato
small jalapeno pepper
1/2 lemon
1 lime
salt
pepper
dash of Tabasco sauce
Dumpster-o-Corn Chips
I.V. Machine

First thing to do is cook the bacon, not only because it's the longest step in the process, but it fills the kitchen with that bacon smell that drives Fat People to conquer third world countries. When it's good and crispy, finely chop two slices up and reward your self with the other two for a job well done. Bury it, frame it, I don't care, but I'd recommend eating it because cooking burns calories and we need to stock up. Throw it in a medium size mixing bowl, keeping in mind that if you are of true greatness, you could leave the bacon grease in.

Cut the avacados in half length-wise, and twist off one half. If you lack courage you can remove the large seed with a spoon, but true Ministers of Fat jam a knife in it and yank the seed out. Score the flesh of each avocado with a knife and spoon it into a bowl. Mash it up, leaving chunks to your preference, and then apply a splash of Tabasco, and lemon and lime juice to prevent oxidation and preserve the baby-diarrhea-green color. Put a fine mince to the garlic and jalapeno pepper, while keeping the red onion at a coarse chop for texture. Salt and pepper to taste. The Tabasco will add a nice warmth in combination with the bite of the jalapeno and I would keep the chopped tomato seperate until you are ready to eat, as it will just get soggy in the guacamole after too long. Let the whole mixture marinate overnight for best results. By the next morning the garlic will have mellowed a bit, but you'll need to add a little more lime juice as I find the flavor will have all but disappeared.

This recipe can be expanded to add more taste and fat content by adding warm melted Velveeta cheese or sour cream just before the desired time of oral entry. Or more bacon. So hook yourself up to a guacamole I.V. and back that Dumpster-o-Tortilla Chips up to your face because you won't be able to get it in your mouth fast enough. You definately won't be going anywhere until completely finished.

Fat Transportation - Land Rovers Unite!!!!

Tired of parking at out-of-order meters and still being ticketed by a meter-bitch whose job provides absolutely zero positive benefit to society?

Does the gaul of towing companies stealing your car unbeknownst to you and calling it a "service" boil your blood type from A- to Ragu Old world Style?

Has the thrill of racing against the above-ground T-Rail in an attempt to cheat death while on your way to buy groceries lost its rush?

Tired of buses that cramp the right lane and cause more accidents than there are people who actually ride them?

Disappointed when a blind homeless guy BM's in the last seat available on the subway and asks you for change as you plop down unknowingly in to said vacated seat?

Tired of fennel smelling taxi drivers who no-speaky-the-English-not-very-okay dropping you off in the ghetto part of town to be raped an pillaged? Well then Fat People everywhere, heed my almighty words!

Buy stock in GOLF CARTS! Running on electricity (and sometimes propane for those of us over the quarter-ton mark) golf carts are clean, efficient, and environmentally safe. Spacious enough to fit two Fat People or three other lamp-post shaped friends, these heaven-sent chariots have plenty of horsepower, yet are compact enough to take off-road in parking lots and on school grounds on the way to your unmarked, untowable, unticketable parking spot. Charge your friends for rides to class, to the stadium, wherever they want to go, and leave it wherever you want with the security of knowing that just about no one on God's pastry-filled earth has any idea how to hotwire and steal a golf cart.

To hell with the subway/T-rail. Golf carts are the way of the future. Or at least they were... Until now!

Fat People are evolving a system of bodily transportation years beyond our time. That's right, those stretch marks you see are actually an intricately designed interlocking tread system, delivering gripping power as we roll about horizontally towards our destination. It has taken hundreds of years for these body marks to become calloused entities capable of independent thought and adaptation, but the hour of arrival is now at hand. Feet and legs will be realized as the transportation objects of planned obsolescence that they are. I have it on good authority from an inside source at Goodyear that soon there will be an interchangeable system of Stretch-Tread Technology(tm) for Fat People, good for traction assurance in ANY weather. Snow, rain, sand, ice, Chinese buffet-tile-floors... nothing will stop this beached whale from reaching his proverbial home back in the ocean. And by ocean I mean that Chinese buffet. We even have Patrick Stewart signed on for a one year contract to provide advertising voice-overs. Stewart loves the fat, and so should you.

But this pinnacle of evolutionary superiority doesn't stop at mere practicality. Over time these markings have taken on a symbolic, unique, almost sacred tribal meaning. Accentuate your markings with a full line of Land-Monster(also tm) accessories including chrome plating finish, spinning waist-belt rims, and fuzzy dice for your neck/rearview mirror. Customer service will be a top priority. Stretch-Tread Technology(tm once again) will also come with an unconditional 45MPH guarantee on downward slopes. Should your tread fail under any circumstances, up to the speed of 45MPH at which point innertial forces cause fat to lift off the ground in a bouncing effect, it will be replaced free of charge. While we are servicing your waistline externally, you can do the same internally. While you wait for our trained technicians to finish your repair, hook yourself up to our complementary intraveinous ice cream machine to recharge all those calories you burned rolling to the shop. What's the next evolutionary step you might ask? Probably a self-contained, internal, high octane fuel/power source for those upward slopes. And we all know that there is plenty of nitrous gasses to go around.

So next time, when you catch a glimpse of what lies underneath a Fat Person's shirt, stem your initial reaction to gouge out your own eyes with a plastic turkey baster and stand in awe of what lies atop the transportational food chain. Ride that coveted Fat Person all the way home and keep him for life. And keep the turkey baster... we like those a lot.

Fat People Are Better Than You

In fact, they are so much better than you that the sheer name deserves to become a proper noun. From now on, by my Burger Kingly decree, we shall all capitalize the term Fat People (and its singular form Fat Person) to show the proper respect. Unless its a woman. Then they will be referred to as fat chick.

Now I know what you're thinking. "blah blah Skinny people have more sex blah blah BEEEELCH!"... Well hogs balls to that, and here's why. According to Men's Health Magazine, the Average Guy has sex 1.5 times a week (79 times a year), and lasts about 14 minutes. He's about 5-feet-9 and weighs 175 pounds. Since the running joke is that Fat People are so fat that they have their own center of gravity, let's assume that your average fat person is 5-feet-9 and weighs the same as this God-forsaken planet called Earth. This equals roughly 10×10 (to the 24th power) lbs, or ten septillion pounds. Now, also assuming that this Fat Person will get lucky even just once in his life, (either by accident, inebriation, trickery or transaction of funds) this Fat Person is having more sex per capita pound than 100 J. Crew models have in their lifetime. Including the gay ones.

So even if you, as a featherweight that I could snap in half by breaking wind, had sex non-stop for the rest of your life, you'll still be second tier to my girth and greatness. See, I know I'll have a heart attack at age 45 because a Wendy's triple scalp burger smothered in chili and dipped in concentrated Frosty mix will wedge itself in my right aortic chamber. But your heart will flat out explode at the age of 35 from the sheer force of just trying to have more sex than me. I'll take those odds any day.

So just accept it. Bow to Fat People as your superiors. Deal with it. Cope by drinking your way out of a bath tub full room-temperature Crisco. At least then you might have the chance of becoming one of us.

By the way, I picked this green apple Jolly Rancher color for my blog not only because it is hands down the best flavor out there, it's the color a Fat Person's stool takes on when they become as massive as the Earth itself.