Oink Oink...

Most of my friends and associates thinks that I am a pig, and I have to agree with them.

Nope, not because I am particularly overweight man (that is a matter of opinion really).

Nor am I a sleazy chauvinist (that is kinda subjective as well).

Nor am I a lazy-dumb-ass-mud-swilling bum... um... OK, maybe I am a little bit of a lazy-dumb-ass-mud-swilling bum, but that is not why other people associate me as a porkious swine.

I eat... yes, I eat a lot. My meal portion is double what a normal person generally consume.

I eat like food is going out of fashion.

I eat like my lazy arse life is depending on it (a-la "Gluttony" in Se7en).

I eat like World War III is starting tomorrow and I am going have to face mortal combat with a horde of Sudanese kids for the world's last broccoli.

I eat like... I guess you get my drift.

While I do my best to rid the world of the dangers of potatoes and carrots over-population, I do marvel at two people I have met in the past who really exceeds any of my feeding prowess.

Daphne, a slim six-foot-something-tall woman I met when I was in college, is amazingly beautiful and amazingly consumptious. She can eat and eat like I never could.

Daz, a guy I used to work with, who is a muscular long distance cyclist that can bench-press over 70kg, is another person who astonish me with his ability to scoff things down his pipes.

These two people are not fat at all, far from it. They are just freaks of nature much like I am. And I revere them for it.

I will end my blog entry here and head off to dinner. Boy, I am famished.