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Wednesday, July 05, 2006

Even I’m surprised to still be alive after eating the world’s largest supply of Sugar Daddy’s in under three hours.

I like to eat. I also like the idea of impending death from eating too much. That is why I am proficient at eating at buffets since I have pushed it to the limit many times and even have a bachelor’s degree in it, which I earned fair and square. I have honed my talent to a science, teetering from this world to the next with a piece of pizza crust dangling out the side of my mouth. And when I finish my caloric conquest, I always raise my arm in the air for a victory that nobody will ever see as I push my 11th plate to the side and pass out on the hood of the table.

“Huzzah!” I hear in my 12 pound heavier head before I fall into a coma, “Huzzah!”

Over eating until you are on the brink of death is an important family tradition for me; an important family tradition that I am starting.

Am I scared of getting diabetes?


My family gets cancer, not diabetes, so I have absolutely nothing to worry about.

So yeah, back to the suspense! And here are a few extra exclamation points for good measure to show just how suspenseful this story actually is.


There. So, anyhow, just the other day, I went to the small booth in the middle of my mall and purchased the world’s largest supply of Sugar Daddies (Which is 15, by the way) When I asked the tattooed freak girl with the eyebrow ring behind the counter if this was the world’s largest supply of Daddy Sugar’s, she shook her head and replied, “First of all, they’re called Sugar Daddy’s, not Daddy Sugar’s, and second of all, I doubt it, since they probably have a whole warehouse full of these things.”

So I took that as a yes.

When I bought them (they rang up to about $8, a steal if you ask me—especially since I stole the 15th one) I unwrapped them, one by one, and sat them on the counter in front of me, sweat trickling down my face and onto my lips, which were quivering.

Sure, I’ve almost made the local China Buffet bankrupt with my eating habits, but that doesn’t mean I was prepared for anything like THIS. So, one by one, I stuck them in my mouth. It wasn’t until Daddy Sugar number four that I realized that sticking two in my mouth, on each side, would make them evaporate in my mouth much quicker, so I did that.

“Suck, suck, suck, suck, suck,” said my mouth. My eyes wandered to the microwave timer while my mouth was losing precious, precious saliva. Two hours, it said, two hours.

Eventually, I got to number 14, and finished it with 8 seconds left on the clock, which was an hour and 20 minutes fast. I passed out on the floor and stared up at the ceiling fan like Martin Sheen in Apocalypse Now. “The horror,” I whispered as my lips stuck to my teeth, “The horror.”

But after I realized my accomplishment, I leapt for joy and exclaimed, “I did it! That’s all of them. I’ve now eaten the world’s largest supply of Daddy Sugar’s and I couldn’t be happier!”

I lied back down and squirmed on my floor and danced my glee when…my hand accidentally bumped into my pants pocket. There was one more left! I had completely forgotten about it! It was the one I had stolen when the tattoo freak girl was bagging up the Daddy’s and ringing up my total.

The sad news is that I couldn’t eat it that day, I just couldn’t. It would have blown up my small intestine and caused me to erupt into my alter ego state, Seizure Man, from all the sugar I had smuggled into my body. And I didn’t have the heart to tell my soul that I was a failure. So I just thought about Bea Arthur crossing her legs over and over again and jerked off and fell asleep on the floor in my own jizm. And in that way, I think I redeemed myself, if not just a little.

Some may call me a hero. And I hope very much that you are one of those idiots.


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