For me, Monday at work after a Thanksgiving weekend feels like waking up next to an ex-girlfriend after an ill-advised coital re-visit. It's like, it feels normal because I'm used to the situation and the people involved, but it still feels slightly alien for those first few minutes. (And no, I cannot explain it better than that so fuck off.)

This week's Healthy Food of the Week Award goes to Edy's Smoothie Frozen Yogurt Bars, which taste like yogurt, only colder. Only 2.5 grams of fat per serving (but it tastes like 2.75 so that's something).

This Thanksgiving, I ate more grams of fat in one sitting than in the previous eight days combined. After stuffing my face with turkey, gravy, shrimp, pepperoni, mashed potatoes, stuffing and butter, I actually started to tear up a little. What's worse, during dessert, I ejaculated. Have I mentioned that diets suck?

This week's Totally Awesome Teacher of the Week Award goes to Elizabeth Crothers, who had a relationship with one of her sixteen year old female students. Which is a lot sexier if you don't look at a picture of Mrs. Crothers (thanks to Andrew for the tip).

I felt really bad for this bowl of mixed vegetables that sat untouched on Thanksgiving. I mean, everything else got passed around like a joint at a party, but this poor little bowl of mixed vegetables never moved. It just sat there looking healthy and unappetizing. At first, I thought about what a loser those vegetables were. Then I realized that I hang out with those same vegetables like every other day of the year. Then I put my head in my lap and sobbed (all while eating turkey skin with both hands).

This week's Random Hot Slut of the Week Award goes to one of my ex-girlfriends, who invited me over to her place last night because she just ended a relationship with some foreign dude and is starting up another relationship with some American dude. She doesn't want the new dude to think she's a slut, but she wanted to get laid. You know that midday snack we all have between lunch and dinner (mine's yogurt)? Yeah, well my penis is the relationship version of that. My dick is there to tide women over. Kind of like a Snickers, only with more nutritional value and less taste.

Damn near every time I order a rum and diet coke, the bartender or waitress makes some comment about how I'm not overweight and therefore should certainly consider the full-flavored goodness of regular Coke. And it's starting to piss me off. The next waitress/bartender who says this to me (and is also not a hot female) will hear the following words: “This is how this works: I order and you bring me what I order. If I want comments about my diet, I'll bring one of my friends to the bar. They're funnier than you.”

This week's Murder-Suicide of the Week Award goes to some asshole in Maryland. This dude (name not yet released) killed his three children and his wife before killing himself on Thanksgiving Day. That's right, a Thanksgiving Day murder-suicide with multiple homicides to boot! It doesn't get much more festive than that. At least, not around these parts.

And now, because logic and fluidity are trying there damndest to come up with some new awards for next week, I leave you with the following, which a stripper named Kelly told me a few nights ago:

“I'm only dancing so I can get some money to hire a lawyer and regain custody of my children.”

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