sweater weather

dang, it's been a chilly penguin festival up here.
windy, cold, and generally crappy,
on the plus side,
i finally get to re-cover myself in seasonally appropriate cladding.
sweater season is in full mutha-F*n' effect.
and that's a damn good thing.
the less of me showing = the more of me that looks good.
clothes may not make the man,
but they sure help disguise him.
and let's all thank the lucky stars for that little tidbit of truth.
word.

with all the low farenheits,
and absence of sufficient british thermal units,
i'm gettin' into hibernation mode, too.
storin' nuts in a hole and that sort of thing.
(that's what SHE said)
that means stockin' up on treats, and getting all swelly around my belly.
i have the sort of physiology that, when fattening up,
lends itself readily to a hybrid visual image of gollumy gauntness
AND a unicef-sponsored little blowpop-bellied brown person
from somewhere sh!tty.
except without the expected flies on or around my mouth.
none of that goes down, thankfully.
could it because my beard is too gross
even for insects that normally eat turds and dead bodies?
maybe.
or it could be that it looks too much like a whole nest of spiders stuck to my face.
unfortunate, but less likely, i'm sure.
otherwise,
it's a pale, distended stomach, bad hair, the works.
my torso looks like a xylophone on top of a basketball.
and yet, i keep right on consuming.
it's like there's a black hole inside me
like i'm channeling an interracial adult movie in my guts....
oh, c'mon.
but seriously, kinda,
i don't know how much shark-glutton calorie destruction i can handle
before i actually do blimp up, blow out, and battle the bulge,
it's just that i want to always be eating.
until i'm full blown 'hey, hey, HEEEY' sized.
like my namesake and patron saint,
fat albert, ya'll,
playin' my radiator accordion, even, an' all of that other junkyardyness, too.
i'm sayin',
if i could dislodge my bottom jaw at this point,
whole unchewed sandwiches could just get shoveled in.
think how much time i could save, never chewin' and all.
i think i'd like that.
that said,
pecan and pepita streusel topped pumpkin pie is on the menu.
homemade hottness is how i cope with shortening days, and frosty nights.
anything that tastes like cinnamony autumn,
with the consistency of doo-doo and crust,
is just my speed;
never quiet, never soft.....