I'm quickly becoming a contestant on More to Love

Knock, knock, knock—Housekeeping! OK, a few things to clear up before we get to Chris' post:

1.) Happy birthday Jessica! You're 24! And in Florida! And not coming to Jäger Ball! WAMP, WAMP!

2.) Speaking of Jäger Ball, here's some info on a few satellite parties that have cropped up:

LA! 8pm. El Chavito (Connected to the El Chavo restaurant) 4441 W Sunset Blvd. Lindsey is manning that effort, so hit her up at keefner@gmail.com or @KeefnerL on Twitter!

Dallas! 8pm. The Quarter Bar at Breadwinners. 3301 McKinney Avenue. Let @THEasutinreed know if you're interested! (PS: kind of a hottie, right? I know. We've been emailing. No big deal.)

Atlata! Team Atlanta will be piggy-backing the Santa Pub Crawl. Schedule of events:
5pm: Front Page News Midtown
6:30pm- Leopard Lounge
8pm - Sutra Lounge
9:30pm - Cosmopolitan
10:45pm - Eleven50
Say hi to Alvin at amowusu11@gmail.com if you want to join the party! (And you'd better...)

Birmingham! 9pm. Bourbon Street Bar & Lounge. 1568 Cooper Hill Rd. Riley will be drinking "a baby" in the corner with Gussy. (LOCAL JOKES! LOOK AT ME!) rmcduff@gmail.com to join!

3.) Next item of business: remember how I used to harass you guys to vote for us for the Blogger's Choice Awards? Remember how annoying that was, so I stopped because I love you like that? Yeah. Well. I have to start again. The votes are getting a little too close for comfort and it would be a shame to lose it at the end. So if you're new to the blog, I'm going to have to go ahead and ask you to go here, sign up for an account (oh my god, I know, I'm sorry, but come on! We all know you're bored as sin at work right now! Consider it something productive to do!) and vote for 2birds1blog for the following three categories: Best Humor Blog, Best Blog About Stuff and Best Blog of All Time. And then ask your friends and family to do the same. And if you need motivation to take the time and vote, I ask you to simply read this. It's guaranteed to light a fire under your sweet, sweet ass. KTHNX!

4.) Ah...also we were nominated for Best Blog About Stuff after the whole Suzy Soro incident, so if you've already voted for us for Humor and All Time, can you do me a solid and vote for us for Best Blog About Stuff? Please? I mean, you already made an account. The hard party is over...And we only have 90 votes. It's embarrassing. Slash I'm grateful for each and every of them. THAAAAAAAAAANKS!

Now, let's get Christacular!

Thanksgiving has come and gone, and I've got the extra pounds to show for it. Not only did I rape and pillage a turkey with my mouth on Thanksgiving day, but I also ate everything that wasn't bolted down while I was home. I don't know what's worse of these two scenarios:
Back in the day, when Meg and I were first getting to know each other, I was hanging out with her and some of her AU friends, one of whom said to me, "Chris, why aren't you drinking?" To which I responded, "I just don't feel like drinking right now." Which was met with 100% legitimate shock and horror.
OR
On the car ride home, my mother turns to me and says "I was just telling your father when we were coming to get you that there's lots of leftovers in the fridge, but they won't be there for long once you get home."
So not only am I a fatty fatty two by four, I'm also a drunk. (You can judge this for yourself when you come to Jäger Ball this Saturday at Town Tavern from 8-11 PM. Although the level of drunk I will be there is not terribly indicative of my day to day level of drunk.)

But you know what? I can embrace the fact that not only do I like my drink, I also thoroughly enjoy my food. But I only eat like an escapee from fat camp when I'm safely in the house I grew up in. And I think there's several logical explanations for why that is.

1. I'm perpetually poor. And by the transitive property, no money is equal to no food. Meg is fond of gummi fangs for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I prefer to go the Survivor route and feast on white rice. Unsalted, unbuttered, plain white rice. While this may be slightly more nutritious than gummi fangs, it is arguably less satisfying. So when I go home, I feel like Templeton the rat at the fairgrounds. My parent's cupboards are a veritable smorgasboard-orgasboard-

orgasboard, and I literally feast on everything in sight. Seriously, the first thing I do when I get to my parents' house is open the refridgerator. Because it's just nice to know that you have options if you're hungry. Do I want to eat leftover pork chops or pizza? Beef stew? Sometimes, I can't handle all of the choice and I just break down into tears. I'm not proud.

2. There's no judgment at home. If I were to unhinge my jaw, and tip the entire contents of my parents' pantry into my stomach, not a single person in my family would think any differently of me. In fact, this is kind of expected of me. But let's be serious, in a family where my father always orders two meals when we go out for dinner, am I really going to be looked down upon? I'm more apt to disappoint my family if I don't eat a hearty meal. I'm getting away from the point, however. The kitchen of my parents' house is like Vegas, because what happens there, stays there. So if I do a keg stand with a vat of gravy, my parents will just look at me lovingly, and then go about their parently business. No harm, no foul.

3. Sometimes, home is just straight up boring. Since I've moved away from home, first for college, and then again to NYC, I've lost touch with practically everyone I grew up with. So without the distraction of friends to hang out with, going home is like being sentenced to solitary confinement. There's only so much TV I can watch without getting jittery. And the internet loses its appeal after hour number 5. (I know, who'd've thunk it?!) When I'm home, I usually end up pinballing from the TV, to the computer, to the fridge. Lather, rinse, repeat. I'm all too aware that boredom eating is a terrible decision and I'm about three hamburgers away from a TLC special on eating disorders, but when there's nothing else to do, my body tells me to eat. And eat. And eat. I can't help but listen. If that involves making a sandwich out of homemade bread, leftover steak tips, and American cheese, well then who am I to argue?

4. Storing food for the winter, ever heard of it? If it's good enough for woodland creatures, than it's good enough for me. Harkening back to point #1 (doesn't everything come back to that point?), I don't know when the next time I'll see food is, so I might as well eat until I'm uncomfortably full when I have the chance. For reals though, when I got back to my apartment on Sunday, my fridge contained: hummus older than the Reagan administration, chocolate syrup, grape jelly, 3 Miller High Lifes, a jar of pickles (containing 1 pickle), mayo, mustard, packets of soy sauce and duck sauce, and maraschino cherries. All of which is edible, but aside from the pickle and the beer, you can't really sit down and eat a tub of mayo. Hence the binging while I'm at my parents' house. And the purging when I return to my daily regimen of white rice and shame.

Luckily for me, going back to my parents' house only happens sparingly. So in the intervening months, I've got time to starve away the pounds. Because as Kate Moss said "Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels." Which is obviously appended with "Except for everything in your parents' cupboards when you're at home."