I eat a lot of fruits and vegetables. I mean

I eat a lot of fruits and vegetables. I mean A LOT. Like a literal crap-ton. Do you even know how much that is? That's enough to distend an ox stomach three levels past engorgement

"I know just what you mean," said Lyle, but I paid him no mind. I was craving a new fruit/veg treat upon which to gorge my gluttonous needs: A kiwi-stuffed-pear-stuffed pomegranate

and carrot-stuffed banana-stuffed cantaloupe-stuffed aubergine-stuffed butternut squash-stuffed watermelon-stuffed pumpkin. Little did Lyle know my culinary creation would soon be

absorbed into the overreaching corrupt web of Emeril's chef dynasty. Lyle watched as by crock pot bbq cheesecake borscht was pimped and reproduced by Emeril to satisfy his

super sex appeal. He wore Chef Emeril's culinary creation to the presidential inauguration speech. It was a huge success and he was nearly naked by the end of the evening.

Nearly, of course, is almost entirely except for the "Bam!" handkerchief adorning his unmentionables that he had "borrowed" from Emeril early in the day. He thought it was a litt

le under the bottom. Being his own man was hard work and if he couldn't come up with his own catchphrase, well, a man could steal one. So he did. "Bam!" adorned all his unmentionab

-les, which was redundant on a bottom that often said "Bam!" without having to spell it out. (I don't make fart jokes, I just fold them.) The guys in the locker room laughed at his

little eruption & snapped his ass with their towels, exacerbating the problem further. This...this was NOT funny & yet every guy in the locker room was dying laughing. Soon, Marsha