My Cinco de Mayo was moving right along, just like any average day, when out of the blue I ACED my final exam. It was sweet because I finished early so I went out to McDonald’s to celebrate. As I sat out in the beautiful sunshine, sipping my carbonated, artificially-flavored sugar water, and scarfing down my sandwich of processed meat byproduct, I started to think about the fact that Americans have been getting really fat lately.

Now I’m wondering how in the world this happened. Has McDonald’s single-handedly inflated the mass of the American citizen? I just don’t get it. I mean you don’t see Ronald McDonald getting all big and buttery, and the dude WORKS there. Then again, the Hamburglar is kind of chunky. And what about that ugly purple mushroom guy?

In any case, I kept thinking, and I came to the following conclusions:

I wish I was fat because then I wouldn’t have an excuse to be the lazy piece of garbage that I am. I’d get out there and start running; screw the low-carb diets and the calorie-crunching. On second thought, I’d be much happier if I was fat because then if I ever got stranded in the wilderness I could survive off my excess body weight for possibly weeks, even months!

If you think about it, fad diets are almost as lame as a pack of tailless three-legged wolves with no teeth. Actually I take that back. The wolves aren’t as lame because they don’t take eating advice from 400-pound dead guys. Unlike everyone who has ever tried the Atkins Diet. HAHA that’s right, you idiots! Besides, wolves are totally awesome - even with a 25% reduction in legs. So dangle a Big Mac in front of me; I can take it. But remember, the fact is this: the more you weigh, the less room there is for me on the metro. I don’t care if you have to smear your lard all over the window glass… move over.