I was thinking...

It began this morning with my son chasing lightwaves through our living room. Just as he had a string of photons inviting his fist to close, though, he misstepped and aimed his forehead at the sharp corner of a cedarwood chest. Now, the gash wasn't so big that it was streaming blood at the rate a gash would stream the first season of Stranger Things, but it was still very big and the blood was very second season of Stranger Things, in that we only felt the need to watch it a couple of episodes at a time, pressing it down with a paper towel between viewings. Regardless, we took him to '[stream-service] and chill' at the local Instacare. They generously let us skip the line and go right through to the exam room, right after they confirmed his name, our names, his relationship to us, our phone number, our house address, email addresses, inaugural address, dominant hand, music preferences, and any names or nicknames we might have gone by at previous places of employ...

To my beloved empty calories,   Why, if you are empty, do you make me feel so full? No, not full. Complete.    You, my love, are not empty. I know this, because I lose my appetite after only 12,000 of you. Empty would mean I would never have to stop. Even 12,000 times 0 equals Empty, and we would need never part. This is how I know you are the one, because 12,000 times 1 equals losing my appetite.   Take heart, empty calories. Those who call you empty are empty--empty of purpose, devoid of peace, incapable of love. And too skinny to make room for a soul.   I know that you're bad for me, though. I met many of your exes, and the ones who know you best are... ... ...let's just say I can see the damage you have done. They can barely walk, and look like they're ready to roll back down the beach and into the ocean. If we are to keep seeing each other, I'll need you to promise you won't control me like that. That you'll let me be me. To the full(?) calori...

Food is Nature's greatest joke. I'm sure I've mentioned all of this before, but that's not going to stop me. The only thing that could stop me is a raid by the FDA, but that won't happen, since finding the humor in food is the reason they exist. The premise of the joke is, as living things, we have to eat food and drink drinks to stay alive. We seriously have no choice. After the premise of the joke comes its elaborate setup. It goes as follows. First, no matter how good food tastes, it all comes out as poop. No matter how good drinks taste, they all come out as pee. And, doesn't it seem like for every ounce of food you eat, you foist out two pounds of poop. Is it just me? The amount of waste produced by your body to the amount of food you consume seems to be a 1 to *hurrrb* ratio. All of that waste from human consumption has to go somewhere, too, and it certainly doesn't just float into the clouds and out of the atmosphere. It stays ...