Die Reste der Welt steht auf übergewichtigen alten Männer...gut. Aber die Kinder bei uns glauben an mich. Das Christkindl.

Dude. Christmas in Austria makes you seriously reconsider bulimia as a valid lifestyle choice.

I've basically done nothing but eat since 4 p.m. on December 24. I've had salmon, duck, roast beef, 12 pieces of toast, Kaiserschnitte (a crazy-rich layer cake), cold cuts, pickles, Marillenknödel (apricot dumplings), regular Knödel, pears with Preiselbeerensauce (like cranberry sauce), apple stuffing, stewed red cabbage (How much do I love red cabbage? Totally. Totally much.), pear compote, fruit cake (and let me just say a big "bleh" to that one), tea, hot chocolate, wine, orange juice, soda, and more cookies than Nabisco produces in the average year. At one point last night I walked into the bathroom and just looked at the toilet longingly.

Because the thing is, you can't refuse food here. If you try, you'd better have an iron will unrivaled by that stupid dog, because one way or another, these people are going to try to force you to eat. They'll use guilt. They'll lead by example. They'll get other people to help them. They'll sneak it onto your plate when you aren't looking. I kid you not. They're wily, and they won't quit until you've passed out at the table. Only then are they satisfied.

Next up, New Year's Eve. I hear there's a fondue planned. If you love me, send me a lovely ipecac cocktail.