“Um, WUDE!” hissed Tweety Bird, aka the most malnourished bird I could think of. And don’t try to tell me Tweety wasn’t severely malnourished; his arms were like toothpicks. I don’t know what Granny was feeding him, but it was clearly nutritionally deficient.
During a press conference for her new film Trainwreck (which isn’t a behind-the-scenes documentary about the making of Lifetime’s upcoming Full House movie, I checked), Amy Schumer poured a gallon of Screw It™ syrup on an extra-tall stack of truth cakes while talking about how few fucks she gives about her body. According to Amy Schumer, Amy Schumer won’t be working a set of razor-sharp cheekbones or wrists that could snap from a strong gust of wind any time soon, because Amy Schumer is OK with how Amy Schumer currently looks.
“It’s very therapeutic for me to be like, ‘Yes, I’m not going to look like a malnourished bird,’ and I like speaking to that, as well as speaking to my work and what I’m doing.”
I have no idea what Amy Schumer is talking about. I spent the past four days horking my lungs out and sleeping, and the only food I could keep down was something I invented called a Sleepy Sno-Cone (crushed ice and NyQuil). I was subsisting on about 34 calories a day, and I’ve never looked better. My face is all sharp angles, like an elderly ostrich. Does it have something to do with the fact that I was carrying 10 to 12 pounds of excess Pop-Tarts weight in my face before I got sick? And will it probably go back to the way it was before after my weekly Wednesday night Taco Bell binge? Shut up, that’s irrelevant.