So, I have dropped 1/2 a kid worth of beer gut since May.  Yay me, right?

Anyway, I went to Dr. Happy Finish today on an unrelated matter, hoping for a reacharound but mostly hoping not to repeat the supplemental testing (which, as suckages go, was right up there with nailing boards to your arm*).  I asked her what was a reasonable number to stop at.  So, she whips out her…

Standard BMI Calculator and says, “drop another 30, fatty.”  Then I whipped out my…

wallet, for the million dollar copay.

* If nailing Jesus to boards for making wine without a license and sticking him in a cave was the cruxifiction of Christ, does nailing the boards to me in a dark “Michigan basement” while building a bar make me the anti-Christ?  Bizzarro Jesus?

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