Rage is Emotional Candy

I didn’t eat one piece of candy this entire weekend, but I did get angry and cuss out an online Scrabble player, so it wasn’t a totally atypical Halloween. Twice I cussed out an online Scrabble player, actually. The second time because, on the first go-around, I wasn’t wearing my Raving Lunatic costume.

Seriously: NO CANDY. Not so much as a Starburst from a mini-three-pack. Not one broken-off piece of a Kit Kat bar. Not even a single M. My inner child is beyond disappointed. My outer fatty is giddy with pride. We survived Halloween none the fatter! As a stomach model this is crucial to my line of work.

I hope your Halloween weekend was the sort of success you are still recovering from. Whatever you wore, drank, ate, or sexed: Here’s to it coming off quickly. And if it doesn’t, next year try cussing out an online Scrabble player. It burns six calories just on screaming, and another ten with guilt and shame. If you still need candy, try spending your holiday with John Candy.

He’s funny. And also scary fat. And also a ghost, which is scary scary. One of those three things should deter you from eating.

My name is Ben and I blogged this.