Who Ate the Last Chicken Wing?

Guys and gals, it’s time that we sit down and have a little interrogation chat about something that’s even more important than world peace – a little matter of who the hell ate the last chicken wing?! 

Eating a man’s last chicken wing is like asking a woman about her age or weight.  You just don’t frikkin do it unless you’re trying to get your ass kicked!  It ranks up there with carjacking, lying and retail false advertisement.  Sure, a guilty culprit may lick the grease off their finger tips or wipe them clean on the fabric of their shirt or jeans, but the evidence lies in the pores of their skin and the aroma of their breath.  And a true chicken fanatic can sniff out the guilty like dogs sniff each other’s butts.

Evidence is eminent.  There is the trail of chicken crumbs; hot sauce stains; and grease-flavored belches.  There is the tummy rub; the heavy eyelids; and the smile of cured hunger satisfaction.  But the one thing that every last-chicken-wing-eating-thief fails to remember is that the last chicken wing usually has someone else’s name written all over it.  And when chicken lovers come back to the table to find that the last wing has been polished off, all hell breaks loose and no one is safe!  Especially if that last wing belongs to ME!

Women love diamonds.  Men love football.  Children love candy.  Old people love prunes.  Young people love booze.  But what about all those folks who scrape up their last dime for a single fix of a box of wings?  Popeyes, KFC, Golden Skillet, Wings & Things, House of Wings, New York Fried Chicken, Church’s Fried Chicken, and even Bojangles makes a killing off of people who are ashamed to enter a 12-step wing anonymous program, and you mean to tell me that there is someone in the world who thinks it’s okay for a greedy mofo to come along and snatch the last wing like a scavenger?  Even pigeons have more couth.

Now if you really want to piss someone off, don’t call them out of their name; don’t insult their intelligence; don’t even miscalculate their change.  Eat their last piece of chicken.  Just be prepared to run for the border because an ass whooping is on its way like a bill collector coming to collect a debt!

Actually, let me paint a more specific picture.

If you or anyone from your entourage decide to sit down for a meal with Hottywood, you can be sure there will be some deep fried chicken wings on the menu.  You can also be sure that when it comes down to the last piece, your fingers better be bound inside your pockets, ‘cause Hotty don’t play that!  Now I may have posed the question of who ate the last wing from the previous meal I shared with a few compulsive wing eaters, but trust me, that question was asked merely to warn the guilty perpetrator.  Because if there’s one thing that never lies, it’s my nose!  I can sniff out some bullsh*t and I can sniff out some chicken wings.  And I will find you!

“Watch your back ’cause I’m coming for you, sucka!”


Quote of the week:   “A greedy father has thieves for children.”

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The Ineffective, Yet Highly Enjoyable Hottywood Diet

Anyone who knows me knows that I am a fat kid trapped in a skinny man’s body.  Some say they hate me for that; some say they are jealous; and others haven’t bothered to form an opinion one way or another.  You may think whatever you want of my ability to eat 200 chicken wings in one sitting, but you can’t help but to admire my commitment to stuffing my face until my stomach or ass reach a code red for explosion.  Before we go any further, I’m reminded of a limerick my family used to sing to me every time I farted after a big meal: 

“Better to let it out and be ashamed

Than to hold it back and bust a vein!” 

Most of you who are reading this right now are probably grossed out by what you’re reading, but sometimes even clean reading can get a little messy.  Here’s when you challenge your sense of humor and either go with the flow or just go.  

I didn’t bring you here to discuss my gastric issues.  What I came here to say is “down with dieting — BOOOO!” What’s the point?  It’s no fun.  After all, the first three letters of the word “diet” are D-I-E.  Having said that, below is the very ineffective, yet most highly enjoyable Hottywood Diet, guaranteed not to make you lose a single pound!  Hey, look at it this way, the more fat that dangles around your love-handles only means there’s more of you to love.  Own up to it.  Hell, I do.  I’ve already decided that in my next life I’m going to come back as a pie-eating champion.  

Anyway, enjoy the not-so-helpful diet tips below.  If you’re going to eat yourself into a frenzy, you might as well enjoy every last crumb.  


Avoid nothing!  Eat any damn thing you want.   That’s the best part about the Hottywood Diet.  There are no repercussions; no second thoughts.  Just enjoy the moment.  And if anyone tells you to avoid any kind of food, you tell them to avoid the fist that you’ll be throwing at their forehead.  …and you’ll only be throwing a fist because you probably ate the last cream pie. 


  1. Eat about 25%-50% above your calorie maintenance level.  More, if you’re an overachiever or one greedy motherf*cker. 
  2. Don’t spread your calories into 5-6 small meals.  Instead, eat 5-6 big meals!  Dessert and snacks count as bonus points.  If you’re going to go all out — go all the way.   
  3. Drink plenty of kool-aid and carbonated sodas instead of tasteless water.  Alcohol is also a fun beverage to wash your meals down with, especially in the morning. 
  4. Toss your weight scale in front of a herd of angry ostriches.  If you follow this ineffective diet, you won’t need it anymore.   
  5. Exercise is the ENEMY!  Don’t bother working out.  You’ll be too tired after you eat anyway. 
  6. And last but not least, the only pills you should be taking are those “All-Night-Long” pills for men and women.  Who the hell heard of taking a pill to curb your appetite???  Talk about a hard pill to swallow, geez.   

People of Earth invest way too much time, effort and energy into attempting to lose weight.  Everyone except people in a few third-world countries of course, but that’s a horse of a different color.  If we weren’t meant to eat ourselves into deep dips inside our couches, then why on Earth is food so good?  Don’t blame us for eating the heavy carbs and loads of sugar.  Our appetites are keeping businesses afloat – Popeyes; McDonalds; Sonic; Dairy Queen.  We’re contributing a lot to the livelihood of businesses; keeping jobs filled; providing an American justice.

I could go on and on about how we should avoid b*tches like Jenny Craig and that whole Nutrisystem scam sham.  You only have one life to live so you might as well live it to the fullest…or live while being full.  And it certainly doesn’t take 90% of any effort to do that.  Especially if there’s a ham bone tied to a string on a stick at the end of effort’s trail.  

Now I’m not shoving any food down anyone’s throat so if you gain a few extra pounds, good for you, but you can’t say it was at my hand.  In fact, my hands are full and greasy, thanks to these fries and this fully loaded pepper jack burger!   So on that note — peace out ya’ll!  I’m about to make my inner fat kid very happy. 

Nom Nom Nom


Quote of the week:   “Sex is just as important as eating or drinking and we ought to allow the one appetite to be satisfied with as little restraint or false modesty as the other.”