Starvin Marvin

Somewhere in the world somebody is starving, and every time I see Mark cooking I wish we could invite that person over for dinner. Today Mark is preparing a mound of lasagna, and by mound I mean like a baseball pitchers mound. The thing is huge, and the kicker is that we still have frozen left-over lasagna in the freezer from last time. "Just throw that stuff out," Mark informed me a little while ago when I challenged him on the pasta mountain he is preparing for dinner tonight.

When it comes time to sit down and eat the thing, Mark will pile it on my plate, and put half as much on his, which I don't think is fair. Like the good son that I am, I will proceed to eat all that is on my plate just like my mom taught me. Mark however, will pick at his food, rearrange it on the plate, and then when I'm not looking because I am too busy shoveling the stuff into my face, he will disappear from the table. A starving African family of ten could literally live on the food I scrape off Mark's plate into the garbage every night. Of course not all of it goes into the garbage, it is the one big reason Chandler is on his way to doggy obesity. At least tonight we have invited a couple of friends over to help consume the thing. I hope they are wearing their expandable pants, and are very hungry.