Saturday, July 3, 2010

Jack Sh*t Jukebox 2

Welcome to "Same Old Sh*t" Saturday, where I bring back some archived posts and call them "golden oldies". As I noted the first time I collected a bunch of my reworked songs, there's probably a good drinking game or karaoke throwdown that can be made out of all this...

Why can't we be thin?
Why can't we be thin?
Why can't we be thin?
Why can't we be thin?

I’ve been round for a long, long time.
Eating too much too often was my crime.
Read the rest here.

Oh, I've got friends with low weigh-ins
Bringing their numbers down,
And trying to chase those pounds away.
And we’ll all be okay.
I'm not big like when I was buffeting.
Think I'll go do some basketball playing.
Oh, I've got friends with low weigh-ins.
Read the rest here.

She’s into margaritas, black beans and burritos.
If she eats much more salsa, she won’t fit into her clothes.
She’s into combinations, nuevo dishes to delight.
She’s got a Mex addiction; she could eat it every night.
She'll make you order cheese dip (an extra large one should suffice),
She'll make you feed her crazy indulgence; it’s her most awful vice.
Corona with a big lime slice. Chow down!
Read the rest here.

I weighed this afternoon.
The number didn’t start with two.
One thing I've left to do,
Weigh-in on my
Weigh-in to you.
Read the rest here.

You’ve got a big butt and I cannot lie,
You prolly should go on a diet.
Cause if you wanna get an itty bitty waist.
Stop stuffin’ stuff in your face.
You get hungry, want food in ya tummy,
But you notice that yo body looks crummy.
You standing at that mirror swearing.
Don’t fit in them jeans you’re wearing.
Oh baby, just admit
You wanna get fit.
Read the rest here.

Right now she’s probably slow cooking another crockpot casserole,
And she's got it real salty.
Right now, she's probably drinking her some fruity little drink cause her brain’s thinkin’ faulty.
Right now, she’s probably pulling up to the drive-thru, asking for an upsized combo...
Cuz she don't know...
Read the rest here.

A long, long time ago,
I can still remember
How my obesity made me cry.
And I knew if I had my chance,
That I could fit into my pants.
And maybe I’d be a happy weight-loss guy.
But February gave me cravings,
So much I chewed on the pet’s wood shavings.
Bad news on the damn scale,
I couldn't take that ham smell.
I didn’t know how I’d survive,
But I knew I needed extra drive.
I knew my health I must revive,
The day I came alive
Read the rest here.

So I screw my will up
It’s time to get strong
The hunger pains go away
Can I do this thing? Oh yeah'
Will I exercise? Oh 'Yeah'
I got my hands up
I’m looking for a loss
I’m heading to Healthy Town
It's a party in the ol' WW.
It's a party in the ol' WW.
Read the rest here.

This is the blog about our weight.
This is the story of our fate.
This is the first day of a journey,
Lord, I hope it's not too late.
This is the trek that’s never done.
This is a hot dog without the bun.
This is the person standing on the scale,
Praying to lose a ton.
Pictures before, pictures right now.
Put up on the blog for the world to say “wow.”
Read the rest here.

Whatever you do, just keep till the morning
Haven’t you had enough to eat now, Jack?
Midnight snack.
Remember your supper was real healthy stuff.
Haven't you had enough?
And I think you can make it,
Seven more hours, if you try.
Don’t do it like all the old times.
Read the rest here.

Hey, hey, hey…
I follow Katie J, she blogs over at Katie J is On Her Way.
There’s LAF at Walk in Loveliness and Enz at Downward Trenz… they blow my mind.
Their weight-loss treks, the way they’re gettin’ rid of their turkey necks, you see.
I know just what they swallow, they’re the ones I choose to follow, who’re some of my friends.
Hey scale sisters, you know Mr. Sh*tter–he keeps prayin’, for your weigh-in, the way it goes ain’t fair, you know!
Hey scale sisters, I don't want to miss a single day you weigh... okay?
Read the rest here.

They see me bloggin’.
People they clickin’ to catch me writin’ diet-y.
Wanna catch me writin’ diet-y.
Wanna catch me writin’ diet-y.
Wanna catch me writin’ diet-y.
Wanna catch me writin’ diet-y.
I’m eatin’ so good.
I'm losin’.
Losin’ so much, it’s got me writin’ diet-y.
Look at me–I’m writin’ diet-y.
Look at me–I’m writin’ diet-y.
Read the rest here.


  1. Great, a juke box and I don't have any quarters!!!

  2. I'm extremely hungry now and it's all your fault. Thanks.

  3. If I met the guy who wrote this song,
    I’d ask him why it’s so damned long.
    What were you thinking away?
    He’d probably tell me “Don’t be absurd…
    Songwriters get paid by the word,
    But don’t worry cuz you’ve made it halfway…”

    And at his desk the blogger screamed.
    He’d bit off way too much, it seemed.
    But still he planned to persist,
    Even with carpal tunnel in both wrists.
    And then he started feeling splendid,
    Cuz he realized it had nearly ended.
    Will he do it again? (not recommended)
    The day I came alive.

    This is hysterical.



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