Trae:



IT’S OVER! IT’S ALL OVER! And buddy did I enjoy it. So, we had planned for a while now that Corey would come up here this weekend. We had a show together in Knoxville on Friday, then the big finale on Sunday. So naturally in advance of this, I went out and made some….preparations:

Obviously this was a bit risky considering my predilections for gorging, but I was confident that if I stayed off the sauce, I could manage. And Friday night I did just that; we went to our show, then an open mic, then back to my place, and I drank nary a drop. I go to bed and CoFo is still awake, just watching TV/sending out random dick pics (I’m assuming). When I wake up the next morning, I find this on the counter:

I knew it. That boy’s a raccoon. Now, we had initially agreed that the day of the weigh-in would be the day of the Downton finale, which was Sunday. However, CoFo had the admittedly genius notion of Just Not Doing That, and moving the weigh-in up to Saturday morning so that we could get to a-slothin and a-gorgin even sooner. He a smart raccoon. I of course immediately agreed to this, so Saturday morning we stripped down to our skivvies and broke the scales out. I went first. As a reminder, I weighed in Week 1 at 224. Drumroll, please:

Elt. Lookee there. Damn near 20 pounds. Which honestly, 20 was the number I had in my head as the magic number this whole time anyway, so naturally I failed to reach it. But still…that means I averaged almost 2 pounds a week, which by god I will take. So now it was Corey’s turn. We had agreed to do this based on percentage lost. Twenty pounds from 224 is 8.9%.8.9% of Corey’s starting weight of 209 is 18.5 pounds. That means he needed to hit 190 on the scale in order to best me. So without further ado…..

YAWK YAWK YAWK YAWK. Mayhaps there is justice in this stupid poop world after all (prolly not tho). Despite his best efforts (read: zero efforts), Corey still ended up losing by double. See, it turns out he doesn’t have TB, and there was a completely logical explanation for his rapid weight loss as noted last week. And that logical explanation was that a sumbitch lied. He claimed to have lost 12 pounds in 2 weeks but ended up with a net total loss of 9 pounds over all ten weeks. Now, in fairness, 1) he could have lost 12 and then gained 3 back over the course of the one week by virtue of Extreme Slothing, at which he excels, and 2) 9 pounds in 10 weeks is still pretty damn good, all thing considered. And by “all things considered” I mean “especially since he altered his Fat Roman Landowner lifestyle in literally zero ways”. If Corey actually tried, he could have crushed this whole thing (which if there is any justice in the world is exactly what it will say on his tombstone). Lastly I just noticed this but that sumbitch had his pinky toe dangling off the side, which is in Chapter 1 of the Fat Kid Handbook, but I guess we’ll let er slide.

Now that I’ve talked an appropriate amount of shit about Corey I do want to say that: hoo wee the Angels of Sloth didst shine their glorious light upon this weekend. That whole “weighing in on Saturday morning” thing is the best idea Corey’s ever had. Soon as that was over I went and bought a dozen donuts. By 10:00 AM there were literally 5 empty chip bags strewn around me on the couch, which I did not move from until like 4:30 that day, when we went to see our friend China Rick, who delivered unto us this otherworldly bounty:

So yeah, we closed er out in style bayba, don’t you worry. And then on Sunday we went and taped our Blog Finale video, which will be dropping next week (look I’m an idiot and idiots can’t edit shit that quickly). The video should be a pretty good time, and also will include the footage of Corey fulfilling his end of this wager, which at least for me, hit rather soundly. So yeah, on to the review of the final episode, and see us next week for the video epilogue.

One last note: not that anyone gives a shit, but the diet is not over for me. I took this weekend off to celebrate/sloth with Corey but I’m writing these words on Tuesday, and both days this week have seen me back at it. So yeah, 19 pounds is a good start, but I’m barely halfway to where I want to be. Thanks to both of you for reading this.

FINAL EPISODE REVIEW:

Wait. Wait what? Wait what, seriously? Nobody died? No murders or car fires? Damn Julian Fellowes done gone and went soft on us. I mean it’s not just me right? This series has been simply wrought with misfortune from the outset hasn’t it? Everything I know is a lie. I just did not expect everybody to get a happy ending. At all.

Not that I’m complaining, though. I mean it honestly does feel kind of cheap to me, but I’m a basic bitch and that mess made me feel pleasant, by god. Just pleasant. Sitting here thinking about it I realize that I like most all of these characters, and the ones I don’t like are kind of inextricably tied to ones that I do. Final Season Daisy made me want her to fall out of a burning building into a larger, also-on-fire building, but A) I like Andy’s ol Gump Ass, and B) she’s got that whole puppy-dog-too-dumb-to-stay-mad-at thing goin on. Her fuckin her hair up hit, though. And then there’s Mary, who I mean… I dunno, I don’t hate Mary or anything, but she’s just so mean. Then she goes and marries the Dale Earnhardt of her day and of course I’m gonna be down with that. Actually I guess he’s more like the Rusty Wallace of his day, what with that dealership he opened up at the end there with my boy Branson (It occurs to me that literally the only other Downton Abbey fan on earth who will get these god damn references is Corey. We’re all we got.) Speaking of Branson, he clearly bout to smash at the end there, so that’s what’s up, and I for one am THRILLED he ain’t end up with Mary’s cold porcelain doll lookin ass. To hell with all yall Tom-and-Mary shippers, yuns ain’t NEVER had my man’s interests at heart!

Lord who predicted this show would end with Edith’s wedding? Not even Lord Grantham thought that shit. Hell, ESPECIALLY Lord Grantham. I love how they always talked about Edith like she’s an old bicycle they been trying to sell for years and were this close to just giving away. But I’m happy for her. Ain’t never had no beef with Edith. Course she couldn’t hold a candle to the incandescent brilliance that was Lady Sybil, but that’s like hating on a Big Mac for not being a medium rare Cowboy Cut Ribeye. Big Macs are fine too. Just fine.

I mean seriously shit just worked out for everybody. I thought for a minute there that ol Lord Dickeybottom or whatever was going to be the sacrificial lamb what with his Pernicious Anemia (way different than just regular old stupid Anemia), but hell Fellowes even let HIM off the hook at the end. The only people that even sortly got a bad ending were Fraulein Turkey Neck (Danka), who basically just got laughed at (heavens!), and I guess kind of Carson. I’m assuming that’s Parkinson’s, but hell he’s getting to stick around his beloved lords and ladies and go on scowling at things what’s different, so I think he’ll be alright for the nonce.

For everybody else it was smooth as eggs. Here’s the roundup:

My main man Molesley. Lawd I bout cried again. Me and Corey had a spinoff idea for a teaching sitcom spinoff called Welcome Back Molesley, where he has to deal with a particularly unruly group of village boys called like The Jollywomps are some such. I just ain’t ready to say goodbye to the G of all G’s. You know he got that fine felonious ass locked up in Baxter though.

Robert and Cora realize they still love each other and are ready to face the future….which seems healthy. I only been married six years, I don’t know. I mean hell I woulda thought just the abbey and the butler and the underbutler and the vast estate and the Pig Fairs and all that would be enough but I guess it’s good they got love and shit too.

healthy. I only been married six years, I don’t know. I mean hell I woulda thought just the abbey and the butler and the underbutler and the vast estate and the Pig Fairs and all that would be enough but I guess it’s good they got love and shit too. I already mentioned Tom but just to reiterate: Tom’s the shit.

I really, really wanted Mrs. Patmore to find love. I mean god damn we’ve had like 78 weddings on this show they couldn’t shoehorn in a tasteful little number by the big sty?! But still it’s heavily implied her and Mason gone shack up so I’ll take it.

wanted Mrs. Patmore to find love. I mean god damn we’ve had like 78 weddings on this show they couldn’t shoehorn in a tasteful little number by the big sty?! But still it’s heavily implied her and Mason gone shack up so I’ll take it. My homegirl the Dowager went IN this episode didn’t she? She was at her fiery best just lettin that little TROLLOP know just exactly what fuckin time it was. I mean she was bodyin bitches left and right this week, between that and Danka. AND she hooked up Mrs. Crawley with Old British Barney Fife, made peace with Cora, and inspired Mary to fix the mess with Edith. The old girl doin everybody proud. Respect.

Bates and Anna had a baby. I mean I still kinda feel like he murders, but as long as Anna’s happy then that’s straight. And that brings us to:

kinda feel like he murders, but as long as Anna’s happy then that’s straight. And that brings us to: My man Barrow. The new butler. So proud. More than anyone else this season, I just KNEW his storyline was going to end tragically. And I’ma be honest….it kinds feels like a copout to me that it didn’t. But who gives a shit. You go girl.

As I mentioned back in Week 1, I honestly have no idea why I loved that show as much as I did, but I’m glad I watched it. I’m glad I wrote this blog, I’m glad I lost 19 pounds (and counting), I’m glad I whupped Corey’s ass, and even though I enjoyed all those things, I’m also glad that it’s over. On to the next thing. Auld Lang Syne.

Corey:

“If a tie is like kissing your sister, losing is like kissing your grandmother with her teeth out.”- George Brett

Yep. Thats about how I feel right now. Look, I know what you are thinking.. “But Corey, you didn’t even try! How could you have expected to win!” Thats woman talk right there. I always expect to win. I had a sound plan going into this endeavor: Sloth like a mad man while Trae wears himself out, and then go in hard when he starts to give up. Thats called a rope-a-dope and thats how Ali won most of his fights. It’s not a dumb strategy, it just didn’t happen to work out this time. I have to give it up for my very worthy advisory. I lost.

Regardless of the loss I am still down 10 lbs – and I did that by not really sacrificing much. All I did was cut my meals in half. I still ate Catfish whenever I wanted to (see: everyday) but instead of eating a whole family of em, I’d get a box and save the cousins for later. I stopped drinking so heavily during the week. It took this competition to show me, but apparently instead of drinking 12 beers on a tuesday night, you can read a book instead. Books hit, y’all.

I will say though, I am a little scared now that the competition is over. I kind of need something like that to keep my life in check – I mean, literally the second the competition was over, Trae and I gorged on Doughnuts and Cheeto’s. Not only that, but we discussed in great detail the many ways a man can go about eating a Cheeto Puff. We both agreed that the best way is to put the Cheeto in aligning to curvature of the Puff with the front of your mouth like a mouth-piece and then suck on the puff until it is no more. This is much like how you would enjoy chewing tobacco, so we have named this technique “The Puff Chaw”

This happened pretty much immediately after the doughnuts ran out and I had had one too many Puff Chaws. It should be noted that this Baskin Robbins was a pretty good distance away from Trae’s house and my phone was about to die so I knew I may not have GPS on my way back.. I decided it was worth the risk – I was correct .

Of course we hollered a Pizza, what did you think was gonna happen? Not only did we holler at a pizza, but we used that Frito’s Nacho Cheese as a dip for our crust. We are very aware that it isn’t real cheese so we call it “Yella”. “Shoo Wee at’s some good yella!”… ” Hey.. Pass at yella over here” are some things we’d say while chewing up aspirin just in case.

We taught Trae’s son who I affectionately nick-named “Dough Boy” about the Yella and being his fathers son he took to it like moth to flame. He started to dip a potato chip in the garlic butter we had going and as any concerned parent would, Trae piped up “Hold on, Boy.. at’s different yella!”

It’s ok though, guys – Dough Boy liked that Yella just fine.

Our personal cook, Chef China Rick went 100% all the way in on our Post- Flabbey meal. Guys… thats for 3 people. That could have literally fed every single animal on the Ark in the event that God wasn’t fake. Them Sausages tho… that whiskey…. FOUR LBS OF STEAK GOT DAMN!!!! SKEEEEEEEWWWWW.

Steak… Potatoes…. Creamed Cheesy Spinach with Mushrooms. I’m sorry… I lost what again? I’m starting to not give a shit.

Yep, Saturday was a great feast for the finale. We drank whiskey, we drank beer, we ate an Elephant’s worth of meat and then we watched Inglorious Bastereds. It was one of the manliest evenings i’ve ever spent inside the home of a self-proclaimed Web designing Ninja’s house (at’s China Rick.. more on him later). But the feasting wasn’t over on saturday….

Considering we are fat Downton Abbey Fans, it was pretty much a given that Brunch was gonna happen. Me and Trae both licked our plates and then each others buttholes.

So yes, to the two of you who actually read this… I lost. But ahh what a competition to lose Ole Chap! My penance was far outweighed by my sins and the loss was celebrated in style none-the-less. Here’s to whatever we choose to do next…. cheers. (Fuck Trae to death with barbed-wire)

Show Review:

Not sure I’ve ever felt so genuinely good about a series finale. Im not saying that I’ve never SEEN a good one, I have. I’m just saying this one made me actually feel good inside – and thats hard to do without Cream Cheese.

Everyone who deserved a happy ending got one – even the ones who didn’t still did. Julian Fellowes is starting to act like the old man who has been a piece of shit his whole life but then realizes he’s gonna need his kids to wipe his ass one day so he goes soft.

I’ll be honest – it was kind of weird seeing them give Barrow the position of Butler, I mean, I AM GLAD THEY DID and of course he will crush it, but I mean, come on.. 3 months ago nobody wanted him in the house and now all the sudden Carson goes all Palsy and its “Welcome Back Barrow! Not only do we want you back in the house, we want you to RUN THIS SHIT!” Don’t really check out for me but I’m certainly glad its the way it went down.

Did y’all see that dumb bitch Daisy try to cut her own hair and completely fail? HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!! I was of course hoping that she would fall off a cliff and die instead, but that’ll play.

I sincerely cried so hard when Mosely was offered the new position at the school. There has never in all my days of watching television been a character so deserving of my love. He just kills me. Kills me.

Gotta give it up to Edith on this one; The girl stood up like a true lady. She wasn’t about to go through her life living a lie just to have it the easy way – she risked it all and it paid off for her in the end. I assure you that is not something her sister Mary would have done. That was channeling Sybil all the way. I have never been a fan of Edith, but in the end, she won my heart. Bravo.

I really have nothing left to say except for that it was a perfect ending for a perfect season in a perfect show. I will truly miss seeing all of these characters continue to develop in brilliant British Fashion, but never have I been more thankful that technology now allows us to keep them forever. Thank you, Julian Fellows, and God-Speed, Crawleys.

Cheers.

Drew:

First of all let us praise Trae “Tugboat Tummy” Crowder Chowder. He made a plan, mostly stuck to it kinda, and lost some serious poundage. Kudos, sir. You’re the best at being slightly less fat. A high honor, truly.

We should also point out that losing a pound a week, which is about what Corey averaged, is nothing to shake a beef jerky stick at. If for no other reason than he’d obviously eat it. That boy’d eat anything if you dipped it in “yella.” On that note I’ma start calling salsa “red.” It ain’t as funny nor as apropos as calling nacho cheese dip “yella,” but tellin the cook at my bodega “put some Rojo on my juevos Chuck” (his name is Carlos) will confuse and make him curse me in Spanish even more than he already does. Chuck cussin in Spanish always hits.

I’m gonna miss this little blog. Corey told me earlier he felt we’d produced a “unique body of work,” unlike his very regular fat gut, and I agree. I figure next week I’ll write a venerable “best of” with respect to our little fat experiment, to release with the video these idiots made. This week, I think I will relive my three “favorite” moments that aren’t necessarily highlights of the blog, but things I enjoyed in relation to the blog.

WE THOUGHT COREY HAD TB:

Good ol’ Doc Holiday Inn Express. Shew that was funny. For about 36 hours I thought Corey got a disease from the Oregon Trail AND that Trae was gonna lose. Trae being mad AND Corey dying?! What would that be like for me?

Remember when Old Yeller died? The opposite of that. That’s how it woulda felt. I really believed it was possible, too.

Now this will prolly make the best of list. But what won’t is not only did Corey get TB (we thought), he (very fairly) got reprimanded for sharing a certain someone’s personal business. Corey got TB AND Trae got mad AND Corey got in trouble. If the feeling I felt in that moment were a drug, I’d throw it all away tomorrow and live life as a drifter.

OUR FRIEND SENT COREY WEED AND HE FELL FOR IT:

A friend of ours, we will call her the friendly Jew, sent Corey a bottle of weed drink. She did this with no instruction, nor any reference to it. It came in a package of swag and other items which was to be dispersed among us. Corey apparently assumed the gift was not for him, but drank it anyway because that is how Corey is.

The entire purpose of the package was to make sure Corey got high and ate a bunch of fried oreo hot dogs or whatever abomination against God a stoned Corey was into. See, the friendly Jew wanted Trae to win for reasons she can explain to Corey and God should she see fit. It was frankly a good plan. But it didn’t work.

Corey didn’t fall victim to a plate of corned beef nachos. He instead got a wicked case of the pot paranoia’s and promptly (I mean like 10 minutes after drinking the soda) told us all that we shouldn’t even like him because he was the worst. He became convinced also that he would never amount to shit and that his family hated him. What can you say, sometimes marijuana lies to you, and sometimes it makes the truth as clear as a crystal Pepsi.

TRAE GETTING PISSY ABOUT MY WRITING:

Trae is a comedy writing superstar. This is a fact, and not one I’d argue with. He is a talented and decorated stand up, his sketches are usually better than the rest of our’s, and of course he was selected by NBC last year to join their late night writer’s workshop (if you didn’t know about that, I guess you haven’t seen him for more than 8 seconds since it happened. He sings like a bird about it).

Well, another known fact that began to really take shape about week 3 is that I was the voice of this blog. Multiple reports came from Corey that people told him I was their favorite part. I mean, ok, it was only two people, but let’s be honest there are MAYBE 3 readers. That is a majority. Now, Trae’d never admit this. No buddy. But what the sultan of soda WOULD do, what that gravy loving goober DID do, what the master of mayonaise ALWAYS does, is complain. Yeahhhh buddy he did.

“Drew has the advantage of reading our stuff. It isn’t fair.”

“Well he don’t have to write about the show or his life. He just reacts.”

“Drew is so handsome and great and also he is a good writer.”

Hand to God he said 4 out of 3 of those quotes. Now, look, all of them is true. Especially the last one. It WAS easier for me. But, and this is key to understand me, Trae, and really the love triangle we have with Corey, I FUCKING LOVE to hear Trae whine. Mad Trae is one the funniest damn things I can think of on this planet. At’s why I wanted him to lose and at’s why most weeks I shit all over him. It just tickles me to hear him sigh. ESPECIALLY if I am responsible. Sounds like a momma bear fighting for her young.

I love you Trae. Corey I would love you but you’re gonna die in five or less years and I need to protect my heart.