I’ve heard that people with a little bit of chub actually live longer, because they are happier (more prone to let themselves indulge). This photo surely doesn’t deny this (heard-it-from-someone-can’t-remember-who) fact. Can’t remember the last time Ellen and I even smiled at each other. It’s all poker-faced rail-thin batch-faces ’round here. “Where’s the vom stick!? You know I can’t vom without my vom stick! You HID IT, didn’t you, batch! UUUGGGH!”
Surprised I couldn’t muster more chins. May this photo be in some even more high-tech version of powerpoint (hologram powerpoint!?) at my funeral.
Nothing to not love here. Ellen slapped together a child costume (this was a last-minute Halloween party), and I can honestly say, I’ve never wanted to adopt another human more than in this moment. The chocolate (?) mustache (happy Movember), the bone-chilling glare, the misbehavior… Mama’s little angel!! We’ll buy you a shiny red Camero when you turn 16, and you can slap Mama in the face because you wanted some other shitty American muscle car. Love you, precious!