TMI Thursday: Lose Weight, Feel...er...Great? I guess...

If this does not sate your thirst for awesome TMI stories, then check out all the other glorious tales of things we probably shouldn't tell at LiLu's home for the staunchy raunchy, TMI Thursdays!

So, it's the New Year. Time for resolutions and for everyone who has ignored their waistline through the previous eleven months to suddenly want it to shrink again.

While I myself am too perfect, thus rendering the action of resolving to better myself moot, I am here to help you lose weight. It's the Patent-Pending Indefatigable Weight Loss Program, guaranteed to rid you of some of that unwanted weight you've got just lying around in your colon.

The first thing you should do is walk--no, run--to the hospital and get your gall bladder removed. This running isn't so much for the health benefits but to assist you into getting in shape, because you'll be doing a lot of running to the can in a few short weeks.

Once recovered from the cholecystectomy, run again to the the local grocer. There, buy the ingredients for an Irish Boiled Dinner and run home again to prepare. Three hours later, eat your fill of the oh so delicious Irish Boiled Dinner. You'll have plenty of left-overs, so you can repeat this latter part of the diet without needing to cook more.

Proceed quickly to the nearest restroom. Plunk yourself down on the toilet. Proceed to shit your brains out. Try not to vomit at the roiling pain in your bowels and/or the cloud of stench that permeates you after evacuating your bowels in a manner most liquid. Wipe. Flush. Flush again. Flush again, lest someone link that stank-ass mephitis to you.

Leave the bathroom with your head lowered in shame.

Be sure to drink water to replace the fluids lost through your bowels.

Repeat.

All this and more for the low price of $19.95!!! Call now, and I'll throw in a pack of wet-wipes so you can mop your brow while sitting on the can, emptying yourself of the most vile-smelling filth your body can possibly ever hope to create in a rushing torrent of diarrhea and despair unwanted weight.

...And now you know how my days went from Saturday through Tuesday of this week.

Fortunately, no one who works in the biology half of my company reads this blog, so they can remain clueless as to whom it was that snuck over to the bathrooms and left a vile, foul-smelling haze in the air on Tuesday afternoon...

Bite My Squishy, Green Ball

Apparently, the ab-lounge wasn't enough. Too bad that ugly bitch can't really fit into her fat jeans anymore. That shit's gone by the wayside, and now we're plagued with a new abdominal-working fad piece of shit exercise implement. Apparently the ab-roller didn't cut it either. The ab-slider? Slid out of vogue. As well the thing with the springs in it that you would hook your feet to and then sit back, using the spring to add extra oomph to your workout. What the hell ever happened to just doing sit-ups?

Now we have the Bender Ball. Like the ab-lounge, it lets you extend your range of motion and gets you up off the floor, adding all sorts of bonuses to your workout to flatten your tummy. Like all rip off fads exercise machines designed to help tighten your tummy and rid you of those unlovable love handles, the commercial trots out a panoply of wasp-waisted middle aged women who swear by the results of the Bender Ball. They, of course, leave out the fact that the ball guzzles booze, belches fire, watches them in the shower, steals their money, chain smokes cigars, and has a 0.04% nickel impurity.

It is time for me to cash in on this shit, man. I am so putting a magnetic, black triangle on a Bender Ball and marketing them as "Flexo Balls". I'll make millions.