Every Pig has its Playpen

You know when people say, you’re a pig and a half? What do they mean by that? And what half of the pig am I exactly? And why am I always a pig in these scenarios? Either I am being a pig, making a pig of myself, or I am pigging out. Or my room is in constant mockery for being a pigsty; like Jillian Jiggs I hear, “ 'you look like your room has been lived in by pigs.' ”
Not that I am complaining because pigs happen to be my favorite animals—but those people mean pig derogatorily, so I take offense.

Then you have those other people, or similar people, or exactly the same people who say, I am so hungry I can eat a horse! I imagine these folks chowing down on a whole horse—knife and fork jutting out of the horse’s midsection—like the ShelSilverstein poem about the girl who eats the whale:
And sadly that is all I have for you on the subject.

Leftovers (for if you are still hungry): 


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