May 25, 2004

Today is the day to eat one of them cicadas.

CHECK IT OUT--AMAZON FINALLY PUT MY BOOK'S ART UP! PRETTY!

The Budding Young Theologian's column is winding down, so now is the time to send in your questions about God and religion.

One of the 'problems' with the design of this site is that I don't have a long list of links to distract you from my own brilliance. But that doesn't mean I'm above providing a few links. Namely:

Lime Tea is a nice-lookin' new site.

The increasingly polite editors of Facsimilation want you to know that they are putting out a print edition of the work they produce on their site.

I'm not telling you who I'm voting for, but when it comes to politics, I'm an unabashed Chicagoist.

Now, back to our regularly scheduled site.

Runner Up Titles to The Swan

Least Ugly

Least Fugly

Most Concrete Breasts

Least Likely to Stretch Out Her Fifteen Minutes of Fame (either by suing Fox or becoming an Access Hollywood correspondent)

Best Extensions

Biggest Stride Made in Self-Esteem, No, Actually, Make That Woman Who had the Most Fat Liposuctioned Out

Least Likely to Have a Spectacular Post-Show Breakdown

Nicest Uncertain Smile

On that note, I found this story. I thought it sounded familiar when I read it and Googled it and realized that it's been published on various sites. And with good reason! It's so spot-on true. I love it. In fact, it inspired me. We'll be running a fat-fiction day on Zulkey.com. Read the story and put your pen to paper! I want to hear your work of short fiction about fat people. You know, how they smell bad, how they are goofy dancers, how they eat. all. the. time. Especially the women. They nasty. Send me fat fiction. Don't worry about hurting the feelings of fat people. They are not at all thin-skinned. If they were, they wouldn't be fat. If you don't submit, I will be forced to assume that you are fat. And jealous of everyone who is not fat. Here, I'll get the ball rolling:

Bertha should have known better than to change her regular schedule of ordering in an extra-large pizza for dinner. Not just because it was shameful of her to present herself in public looking the way she did, or that she really needed to be on a diet, but because she broke another restaurant chair. Actually, it wasn't a chair. It was a booth. As all the employees and patrons of the restaurant turned and laughed and pointed at Bertha, she took out a reserve candy bar that she kept for emergencies, ate it, and thought about how much she liked to eat food.