Fatty Loves Turkey.

There was that perfect turkey full of goodness perfect for the food coma that ensued. You absolutely had to have that delicious stuffing tryptophan with those delectable buttered (mmm... butter) mashed potatoes and no, you didn't skimp on that gravy. Oh, and the pies. You can't forget the pies. We have this ridiculously amazing home cooked multi-course feast to just shove in our faces.  Let's face it, the holidays are an excuse to engage in arguably the best of the seven deadly sins, gluttony. But why? I'll tell you why. I have a theory.

Inside all of us there is a little fat kid waiting to come out. We manage to ignore him for most of the year with our crazy fad diets and our wild work out routines. But for some reason, we indulge our inner chub and let him run rampant. We give him the extra brownie a la mode. We take those seconds---maybe even thirds. We put a little extra butter on the... well... if your like me, you'll take extra butter on anything. You eat til you have unbutton your pants and lay in there in food coma heaven. But I realized, that we only eat around the holidays because there really isn't anything for us to do otherwise.

When I was a kid, I thought Thanksgiving was the worst. It was just close family. There were no other kids around besides my brother, who I was already sick of by that point since he was always around. Everyone had to comment on how tall we got and didn't skimp on the cheek pinching. No one understood how epic The Mighty Morphin Power Rangers were. All anyone wanted to do was eat. It was the worst. The only prime discussion I got as a kid at Thanksgiving dinner is everyone asked me what I wanted for Christmas. This conversation was crucial... for about 5 to 9 years give or take. For in the two to three minutes that these conservations would last, I would have the faintest whisper of hope because that meant Christmas was not too far. At that time, to me, Christmas was just like my birthday, but EVERYONE got presents. (In other words, it was like my birthday, but not as special.) The older you get, the more you come to terms with Santa not being real and Christmas, therefore, being a sham of a holiday. You realize it's all for the kids.

That's when you indulge in what you got left during the holidays--the food. At first, you still don't really dig Thanksgiving, but you start to notice that hey, Christmas dinner isn't so bad. You got some succulent braised beef and some of that green bean almondine. Everyone's pulling out all the stops for ol' JC's day of birth. After awhile, you notice Thanksgiving and you end up liking that holiday more. There's more food on that day then Christmas. Christmas might as well be called Thanksgiving II because the only difference is that you sit around watching kids open presents and put in National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation. Food is all you got left as an adult during the holidays.

So I guess what I am saying is, eat up. Screw the gym. Food is the real meaning of the holidays.

Teenagers Scare the Living Mess Out of Me.

Dear Youth of America,

I think I'm speaking on behalf of, oh, the world when I say, you all suck. What the hell is wrong with you? You're all a bunch of not-quite-hipster, emo kids obsessed with glittery vampires and Justin Bieber. You all have these mood swings and tempter tantrums like you're all kindergartners who have the ability to form proper sentences.  With your gender bending tight pants, your Hot Topic, and the irony of your "individuality" (since you look like every other 15-year-old wielding mommy and daddy's credit card), you think you run this joint we call the world. You looove your weirdly angled photos, which can be seen on whatever social networking site with too much eyeliner and too much hairspray in your fashion mullets.

Between the garbage on MTV telling me you're all 16 and Pregnant and that you want to be Made into God knows what, I don't understand your generation. One second, you are all having your mom drive you to the mall because you are into the Hot Topic goth scene and flocking retardly (that's right I made up a word) to see this Twilight. The next, you all love the Taylor Swift and the recycling. Then I turn my back and you're knocked up and dropping out of school. It's like all of you were raised by a hippy Elvira and Billy Ray Cyrus.

And don't you roll your eyes at me like I was never a damn teenager. Been there. Done that. I've been in your store-bought worn out Chuck T's and last I checked, I wasn't this obnoxious nor were any of my friends. It's probably because in my day, we had a little something called discipline. When we turned 16, we got jobs and learned the value of the almighty dollar and we had structure in our lives, which is lacking in today's youth. You turn 16 today, you swipe few dollar bills from granny's purse and you buy the cocaine and get huff glue. It blows my mind because my generation had to huff what was around the house. Kids today are all about that "rock and roll" and this "hip hop". I mean, this is the only thing leading to the premarital sex and vampire fascination with the hippy undertones. (I hate hippies.)

I guess what I'm trying to say is: please ask for your parents consent to get spayed or neutered right now. We don't need a more asinine generation to follow... or 27-year-old grandparents.

Warm Regards,

(idk my bff) KIM

ATTENTION RACISTS: STFU & TASTE THE RAINBOW

I'm not a very sensitive person. Sure, I feel for the victims of tragedies, but at the same time I'm not one to dwell on them especially if I have no significant ties the situation. This sounds horrible, but it is the truth. Maybe it is because I have been raised in a sheltered environment. Maybe it is because the only tragedy I have ever faced involved my attendance at a 98 Degrees concert. It is just the way I am and I'm sure that I am not the only one.

Usually, I don't make a fuss over serious topics like the economy and politics. That's just not my style, but this one just hit a little too close to home for me. Today, at the University of Illinois Champaign, a message was found in a men's bathroom stall on campus threatening to kill Asian students on Monday, November 16th at Everitt Lab. That is this Monday. Yes, this can be just some dumb kid talking out of his ass, but the fact that this individual gave a specific date and location for this shooting, this is very serious. Not only is this sick, obscene, and ridiculous, but the threat is so real to me because that is where my little brother goes to school.

I didn't care that Joe Jonas and Miley Cyrus made Asian eyes in some photo. (Whatever. Little kids do that.) Nor did I care when Abercrombie and Fitch carried those racist shirts. In fact, I thought those shirts were kind of funny. Really, I am the last person to freak out about stupid things like that. A racist joke here. A stereotype there. Sure, we are all guilty of doing this and it is all in fun. But taking it so far as to threaten the lives of innocent people, let alone a specific race, is disgusting and uncalled for. For Christ's sake, it is the year 2009 and the fact that people out there that are still this ignorant is just appalling to me.

Even if this threat was a joke, it was not funny at all. This person seriously has a demented perception on life and deserves whatever is coming to them. Just the thought of killing innocent people and announcing it to the school like it is some sort of frat party is perverse in itself. It is just sick.

Anyone with information about the threats is asked to contact UIPD at 217.333.1216. If you would like to anonymously share anything that you know, please contact Champaign County Crimestoppers.

Kids at U of I: be careful and be safe.

I Wanna Drink 'Til I Can't Feelings No Mo.

Binge drinking--what a joy it brings to the youth of the world. It makes the meek strong and the strong invincible. Your perception of the world is clearer after you drink a beer or two. Everyone is a little more friendly and not to mention, a little better looking. A sensation known as the "warm fuzzies" consumes you. The more you drink, the warmer and fuzzier this feeling gets. Scientists believe that when these warm fuzzies are at there peak, you achieve confidence. With this new found confidence, you find the self you want to be--your inner Tyler Durden per say. This leads to dancing, awkward sexual advances, new friends, and an overall good time.

When you're young and a child of the night, there is nothing that can go wrong. Sure you don't remember everything, but you don't need to. It is all in good fun and the next day, you can do it all over again. No hang over. No aches or pains. No post-drinking regrets. Maybe you will swing by McDonald's and grab an Egg McMuffin if you wake up still slightly intoxicated. All things considered, when you are young, you're a fully functioning part of society after a long night of binge drinking.

This all sounds familiar right? Most of us partied with the best of them and then you get old. Those nights of reckless endangerment to our livers have gotten the best of us. I mean, yeah, you still get the warm and fuzzies, but you definitely pay for it afterward. After a long night, let alone a full weekend of drinking, you're grouchy and achy and looking for the antacid. The sun becomes the Devil in the morning and burns through your comforter and pierces your retina forcing you to wake up and feel the shame of old age. Every part of you is sore and you look like you death, but still better than Kristen Stewart because she's just haggard.

Oh, and remember how awful it was the first few times when you got drunk because you didn't know better so you always drank too much, and vomited everything that you ate that day, but then it stops because you realize how much you can drink without getting sick? Yeah, after a while, you start to drink less and less because you have more responsibilities for being an adult. Apparently, being a grown up means you can't always have fun when you want to. (The word, adult, is acutually Finnish for boring responsible person who goes to bed early, I think, but don't quote me on that.) Anyways, you forget that you can only imbibe so much alcohol and you go overboard. Thus, your body regresses to the stages of your freshman year of college but to the infinity power, which basically means instead of throwing up what you had that day for a couple hours, you turn into The Exorcist and upchuck everything you had in the past month. Not cute.

I guess, there is a set period of time in your life where your able to party hardy every night of the week and then function normally the next morning, but there is no warning to when that time ends. So, I'm telling you as my peers, colleagues, and friends, heed my warning. Alcoholic beverages are all fun and games for the evening, but apparently, you feel like death the next day.

Well done, Alcohol. You may have won this battle, but consider this war. I've only learned my lesson... this time. (Insert shifty eyes here.)

(Note: If you would like to imagine what I sound like after this weekends festivities, please re-read the blog as Peter Brady going through puberty.)