Trippy

For Tripathi

May you remain forever yummy.

Trippy the frog hopped around, following a trail of biscuit crumbs. She hopped some more and found herself in a gigantic white hall with glistening silverware displayed grandly on the smooth marble slabs. "Wherever have I stumbled upon?" thought Trippy the frog. And out of the vast skies came a massive steel apparatus and scooped her high up into the clouds. Trippy was panicking and finding it difficult to even breathe. She was then plunged through a mist into a pool of warm water. "Ah spa!" she was relieved. But as the temperature of the water soared higher, Trippy the frog knew something was wrong. Something was very very wrong. And then Trippy was thrown into a whirlpool of pure, black darkness. Her eyes remained open, fixed eternally onto a lump of butter... the butter that would soon smother her, stifling her voiceless cries.

Jog Hog Blog

I am not an exercise type of person. And that is an understatement. I have been blessed with some strange kind of metabolism, which has kept me skinny throughout my life, regardless of how many doughnuts I devour. In fact, the last ten years or so have been spent in attempting to put on some flab. Which did eventually happen, but not uniformly. In a nutshell, I pretty much ended up looking like a pregnant teen.

So after two decades, I resorted to .. exercise. And thus I bought new sport shoes, track pants and prepared to rocket past everybody in the park. It started out great but would always ended up as just another stroll in the park. So much so that one day I felt myself falling behind the most ancient man there ever was. Flabbergasted, I trudged on day after day. But my food baby was thriving fabulously. What was I doing wrong? Could it perhaps be the sausages and eggs I would crash upon after returning from a jog? And here I thought I was compensating for lost nutrients :O

Sooo I attempted to control my diet, much to the horror of fat people. "You'll disappear!" is one thing I've been hearing ever since the age of 10. Eleven years later, I'm still here, so I think I can stop worrying about going extinct. Anyway, abstaining from brownies and fried chicken was pretty much the worst feeling in the world so I gave up on it. Conclusion: Jelly Belly = oh no! No jelly + No jelly belly = the end of life itself !


And thus emerged the Jog Hog.