Today I had my first experience with Fatburger. You folks on the left coast are probably more familiar with it. I learned that from the placemat I was reading, as it became covered in mustard, mayo and relish.

It was a good burger. Not as fat as I hoped. It made me want to take a fatshit. There were lots of fatpeople in the restaurant. They were eating there and working there. My only other complaint is the location of the garbage cans. I got up with my finished tray, looked around and saw one that was way inconvenient to get to, so I peaked around a corner and didn't see another one. Now I'm just a guy by myself standing in a restaurant with a tray that I can't get rid of.

So I went back to my table to put my jacket on and I realized I would have to use the only one I saw, which was back near the entrance. That's when a Fatburger manager came over (he was quite thin) and he was eager to throw away the remnants on my tray for me. That was downright nice of him. So I said, "Thank you." He then said, "Thank you guys."

I was by myself. It was like he was rubbing it in that I was a loser and a loner. What a jerk.

Luckily for me, though, my fucking soul mate emailed me today via Friendster. We've not yet met, but I think it may be true. The last girl who claimed to be my soul mate was basing it on the fact that we both threw scissors during a game of Rock, Paper, Scissors. For a moment I believed her, but then I found out she had a seven year old daughter. I don't think that will be on my soul mate's resume.

Tomorrow is my office Holiday Party. I've been reading all those articles where they are like, "Don't drink too much." I want to make sure I do everything right. So far, I'm yet to find an article that reads, "Don't whip out your nuts."

I'm not saying I'm going to do that, but you never know. I'm not making any promises. Especially when it's about my nuts.