There really needs to be a name for that sad feeling fat people get when they realize it is 2 am and the leftovers they took home from the restaurant and planned to have for lunch the next are simply not going to make it through the hour.
Sigh. I’m so tired of being the owner who looks like his pet (TUNCH), but damn, I really want those leftovers right now. Those potatoes were damned tasty.
I don’t know of any songs called Fat Bottomed Boys, so, well, whatever.
And, god damnit, Freddie Mercury is dead.