My best friend is looking really good lately and I can honestly say that I’m not at all happy about this; in fact, I’m pretty pissed.  You know how it is with women; for every ding dong we consume, we want our girlfriends to eat two.  It’s an endless, silent, seething competition, even among the greatest of friends, and the wider your bestie’s thighs are, the better off the friendship is. 

So imagine my annoyance when the bitch  she went completely insane and joined a gym.  She’s traded in the ding dongs for crap like fruits, veggies, and whole grains.  She’s also lost some weight due to 2 an abundance of surgical procedures “supposedly” designed to alleviate various medical conditions, though I’m beginning to suspect that her tonsils were just scapegoats in an alarmingly dedicated plan to out-Milf me.  This is mostly due to the subtle comments she made while we indulged in the green tea and jicama she so generously served for lunch:

“How much do you think a kidney weighs?”
and

“I want to surgically remove unnecessary organs for the sole purpose of weight loss.”

She, of course, insists that she was kidding, but yesterday, as her doctor was marking her left side for what she described as an important and potentially life-saving procedure, she looked over his shoulder and winked at me! 

So, like any good best friend, I’m going to go and visit her today, in order to cheer her up and make sure she’s recuperating.  I’ve cooked a delicious broccoli soup using enough butter to panfry Texas only the freshest vegetables and herbs in the hopes that she blows up like a balloon gets her strength back.  I’ll also be helping administer her pain medication, so she’ll be nice and loaded while I shove a box of ding dongs down her throat comfortable.

After all,
that’s what friends are for.