blog: ‘Lame Ass Loser Club’ is for me |

blog: ‘Lame Ass Loser Club’ is for me

Mary Burd
Vail CO, Colorado

My sister says that if a normal person ate what I do, they would weigh 300 pounds.

Probably true, but fast metabolism and skinny genes haven’t left me flabby yet.

Napoleon Dynamite Ben and Jerry’s and red wine for dinner apparently serve me well, seeing as how I still have a six pack. So, thank you all for your diet concerns, but I think I have a healthy relationship with my food.

That is to say, I love it. I love the whole pack of goat cheese on my pizza so much that, I admit, I lick my fingers after crumbling it on top of all that Colby jack and barbecue sauce.

But I was thinking, since I don’t have much else to do — remember: lack of love life, lack of anything remotely interesting happening in Vail in October, lack of those cool bouncy moon boots with springs on the bottoms like we had when we were kids — that maybe some singers should consider changing the lyrics to their songs to be inclusive.

It really is politically incorrect to discriminate against all those people who have no love life by constantly talking about love and lust in popular music.

Is it fair of rappers to make people feel that they are the only ones not getting laid by someone different everyday of the week? Or country music singers to make people sad that they can’t even be sad that their dog got run over by a train since they left their dog in Ohio; or that their dad is not in prison because he’s actually a respectable, hardworking person; or that they can’t possibly get divorced since they have no one to leave or be left by?

Also, changing lyrics would help eliminate the blatantly weight-ist attitude so prevalent in the US. Skinny, starving looking models could actually improve their appearance by eating once in awhile simply because it would make them look happier. Fat people could eat to their heart’s delight and sing along to love lyrics without feeling left out — because: the lyrics would be about food!

Maybe J-Lo could consider changing her lyrics to ‘Could This Be Love’ to the following:

If you only knew brown sugar and oats granola bars

What I’ve been going through

Waiting and wanting you

Could this be love

How, tell me how will I know

Will my stomach make me believe it so

Or can I trust the way you taste

especially if with Earl Gray tea

You see how hard I’ve tried

Still I can’t decide

but you’re free from the resort

so I’ll eat you anyway you like

I can do it fast, slow, or short

Or how about Akon? He could really improve his hit song ‘Don’t Matter’ by adding just a few little words:

Nobody wanna see us together Ben and Jerry and Me

Nobody thought ice cream would last forever

I feel I’m hopin’ and prayin’

melty ice cream tastes better

Men steady comin’ after you

but their gonna have to get through me

Seem like everybody wanna go for you on the shelf

And don’t wanna respect boundaries

Tellin’ you all those lies

Just to get in your container

But I must admit there was a couple spoonfuls

I held inside

But just know that I tried

To always apologize

And I’m gonna have you first always in my mouth

To keep me satisfied

And, last but not least, Sean Kingston. He, for one, should understand my point of love for food and probably, chocolate milk. Maybe Sean should consider these minor changes to ‘Beautiful Girls’:

See it’s very define, Sinton’s Chocolate milk is

One of a kind

But 7-11 mushes up my mind

You walk all the way there

Just to get your Visa declined

Oh Lord…

My baby is driving me crazy

You’re way too beautiful Sinton’s Chocolate Milk

That’s why it’ll never work

You’ll have me suicidal, suicidal

When drinking you is over

Damn all these beautiful Sinton’s Chocolate milks

They only wanna do your dirt

They’ll have you suicidal, suicidal

When drinkin’ them is over

Is my love life possibly so lame that when I hear romantic songs, I think of food?

Maybe. For sure, it would be less of a waste of time to spend my day thinking about the butter lettuce salad with blue cheese, walnuts, and romano breaded chicken waiting for me in the fridge then becoming, (or remaining, depending on how you look at it) a lame ass loser who sits around thinking of how probably through no fault of their own members of the opposite sex will always disappoint you, and at the very least never live up to all or any of your expectations.

But yes, just in case you’re wondering, I did watch Bridget Jones last week and I felt so sorry for myself I pretended I was crying for poor little Bridgey’s misery instead of my own…

How much is that membership to the Lame Ass Loser Club?

Mary Burd can be reached at

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