So I ended up watching some of the season premiere of The Biggest Loser last night, and came up with a weird scientific hypothesis that should be tested:  Is it impossible to discount the impact that the weight loss of a large number of large people has on the Earth’s gravitational pull?  If you watch the end credits, you’ll also see that they have some Inuit whale hunters who serve as executive producers on the show.  These guys – Big Lovehandle Light Feather, Fat Rabbit Roundtree, and Big Ass Phil – wipe down all the exercise equipment, pick up any actual fat that falls off the contestants, and wrings all the liquid blubber out of the towels.  They want the blubber because it is much easier, and less dangerous, to follow a fat person around than the alternative.  Do you have any idea how hard it is to canoe out into the ocean, and try to kill a whale with sharpened pine tree limbs and fishing line made from the hair of what would appear to be your tribe’s answer to Crystal Gale?  This blubber is invaluable because it can then be turned into oil, which can be used for heat and light.  You can also make some form of leather out of it – lard leather, I guess?  And believe it or not, it can even be turned into cosmetics.  I believe the Inuits primarily use it as an ingredient in their unisex fragrance “Are You Inuit?”, which is sold at all fine Wal-Greens, Dollar Generals, and Lowe’s near you.  So don’t let anyone ever tell you that reality shows really don’t matter.

Why is it called “taking” a pee or dump?  As far as I’ve seen in my 34 and some odd years, there’s definitely a lot of giving in those situations, and not nearly as much taking.  It’s like donating biological waste to the Salvation Army, except you don’t get a tax credit.  If you did, you’d be drinking water, prune juice, and eating Mexican food like you were an over 70′s version of Lance Armstrong in the Tour de Ass.  Don’t get me wrong, you can definitely take something away from either occurrence.  For instance, if you’re peeing repeatedly, there’s a good chance you could be: drunk, pregnant, drunk and pregnant, nervous, or scared.  If you’ve got some type of discoloration or non-corn like substance when you drop the Huxtables off at the pool, then you may need to see someone with a medical license and the equivalent of a roto-rooter to check you out - or “in”, as the case actually is.  Thankfully, if you have this kind of thing done, the big van doesn’t pull up outside your room and let everybody who has seen you in the hospital that morning know that you’re having your pipes cleaned.  Who wants to take snake the rooter in the side door for all to see?  How embarrassing would that be?  People would drive by your home, and either assume something like a paper towel got flushed down the toilet, or that you have some severely stinky, USEC-style poop.  Instead of proctologists or gastroenterologists, these type of doctors should just be called master plumbers.  I guess medical plumbers would sound more high falutin’, but tubin’ people would still be the same.

According to the most recent episode of the local rag, I am apparently one of the few people left in the world who has not been assaulted by Ms. Lohan or sexted by Brett Farv-ruh.  I don’t know whether to cry, shower or cry in the shower.  I also don’t know if that sentence should end with a question mark.  To be clear, I’d much rather be roughed up by Ms. Lohan than subjected to sexts from “Lil’ Brett”.  Also, am I looking at this wrong or do all of Number Four’s love interests look exactly like his wife, including one with a local address?  You gotta give it to Brett though, because it’s obvious that he either knows what he likes, or has an amazing inability to think outside a certain box.