*groans loudly* Hank, the tiny chickens are inside my head, and they are breeding.

The problem is that as the tiny chickens breed they can't get out, so they're just filling up my head with pain. But Hank, I do want to talk to you today about something I've been thinking about a lot: going with your gut. Which I am opposed to.

Okay Hank, so the other day I was changing Henry's diaper, and I don't know if you know this about babies, but, uh, when you're changing their diapers, sometimes they will urinate or defecate, because they think it's funny. And I'm just getting the new diaper on when this fountain of pee just erupts! And in that moment, I thought to myself, "What am I going to do about this?" At which point a dumb little voice inside of me said, "Go with your gut.

You have good parental instincts." And what my gut told me to do was to cup my hands where the fountain of pee was landing and just gather the urine in my cupped hands. Which I did, and it worked great. And then I'm standing there with two handfuls of urine, and Hank, as you know, the human hand is not really meant to be a waterproof cup, so I'm kinda walking it around and it's dribbling all over my feet.

And then I start screaming, "Sarah! Sarah! There's pee all in my hands!" And she says, "Well, just drop it!" At which point I basically drop poor Henry's pee on poor Henry's pee-pee.

Stupid gut. Whereas, if I'd used my nerd brain I would've grabbed the diaper I was about to use, put it over the fountain, and solved the problem right then. The other reason I don't go with my gut is that when my gut isn't giving me bad advice, it only tells me one thing: EAT.

By the way, Hank, just for future reference, I'm counting on you and the Nerdfighters to let me know when I get fat. And you /failed/ on that front. I mean, sure, there were hints.

A few days ago a Nerdfighter said that I looked like the lead singer of the Barenaked Ladies. *picture appears on screen* Really? Also, there was a hilarious recent YouTube comment - I won't share the username - but in a thread about whether you or I was hotter someone said, "John is like your smart uncle, and Hank is like your hot cousin." *laughs* You're a hot cousin! By the way, Nerdfighters, just a quick piece of advice.

Your relationship with your smart uncle and your hot cousin should be the same: platonic. But anyway, Hank, I am not a subtle person. When I am fat you need to tell me "John, you're fat!" Instead, I had to go to the doctor a month ago and step on the scale and find out that for the first time since I was like, eight, there is a new first number in my weight.

So in addition to having tiny chicken disease for the last two weeks, I've been on a cleanse. Yes, I follow Amanda Bynes on Twitter, I read Gwyneth Paltrow's newsletter, and I'm on a cleanse. So far I've lost twelve pounds, can you tell?

Can you see it in the face at all? And I can lose another two pounds just by getting a haircut. Anyway, the reason I'm losing weight is because I am /not/ listening to my gut, because my gut right now is like, "Feed me!

I will eat this, feed me that, that's fine, it looks like it has some carbs in it." *noms on My Little Pony* But my brain knows that I can't eat this My Little Pony, even though it would be delicious, not only because it would be caloric, but also because it's the only My Little Pony in the world with a Black Santa and a license plate from Gutshot, Tennessee. Poor My Little Pony didn't make any jokes about Looking For Alaska. So Hank, the world can go on celebrating emotionalism and gut instincts, but I'm going to be a Nerdfighter by getting fit and avoiding pee with my brain.

Hank, I'll see you on Monday. *makes a terrible screech-y dying sound*