They're off!

As I sit here reflecting upon all the hearts, and children's privates, Michael Jackson touched during his life, I notice the race to find which celebrity has been most emotionally affected by another celebrity's passing has officially begun.

Hey New York, stop fucking hitting me.

Look New York, in the past year, I've lost 20 pounds and have gone from 18% body fat down to 11. What I'm getting at is, I'm not taking up all that much space, so stop bumping into me!

I get smacked into, on average, ten times a day. On the subway. On the sidewalk. In the department stores. Everywhere.

When I lived amongst the Los Angeles sprawl, I could go months without a single soul even brushing up against me. Probably 'cause everyone was hermetically sealed away inside their cars. Not that I want to go back to such isolation. LA was pretty lonely sometimes. It got to the point where I considered getting into car accidents just to meet people. But the streets of wall-to-wall people here who act as if I were invisible is too much.

Here's a picture of what I look like (before the weight loss mind you). If you see me, please make some room. Thank you.