Dear Magic Shake-Ball:
If I polish off my mom's potato salad (made with real mayonnaise and pounds of melted cheese) and then bike downtown, can I have a soft serve at The Breeze?
Answer:
"You have dancing shoes
With nimble soles: I have a soul of lead
So stakes me to the ground, I cannot move."
(Romeo and Juliet 1.14-16)
Interpretation:
Okay. Look, Shake-Ball, I know I've been packing it on a little bit, but give me a break. It's not like they're going to have to get a chainsaw and airlift me off my parents' couch. I'm just doing a little stress eating, okay? Jesus, I bet you used to gorge yourself on pigeon pot pie and mead when you went home to visit your family, and your father probably complained about how the Coat of Arms you bought for him was just okay, but not as big as the one Joe Miller's son got him, and how come your kids still don't sleep through the night? Okay? So back off.
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