TEAM LAST CALL

I cant prove it, but Im pretty certain that when they sent my body through the Heavenly Assembly Factory in the sky, the angel who pieced me together accidentally gave me girl hips.

Maybe my angel was suffering from a distracting migraine, or worrying about a suspicious mole on his shoulder. For all I know, it wasnt my angels fault at all that I ended up with the curves of Delta Burke.

But the damage is done. No matter how fit or fat I may be, it will always look like I just shoplifted a hula hoop. And no matter what my mom says, having bigger hips than your date is not OK with women.

But my freaky hips are just one of many factors contributing to my larger problem. Namely, I am shaped like Winnie the Pooh, to the extent that it was an actual nickname of mine in middle school.

That's why I've started this fantastic "nutritional approach" called the Atkins diet. It's both simple and effective. Here's how it works:

Walk into your kitchen and open the refrigerator. Look around inside. See all that food? You can't eat it.

Im exaggerating, of course. Its only the food you like that you cant eat.

No pasta, no pizza, no fruit, no desserts, no sugars, no beer, no rice, no bread. So now Im that jackass standing at the fast food counter trying to order a hamburger without a bun. The girl behind the counter is looking at me with an open mouth like I just tried to order a fried poodle on a stick.

Its been a very difficult diet so far, although a very successful one, provided that the goal is to make me so grumpy and miserable that all I can do is lie on the couch, write spiteful editorial columns, and feed pieces of my $4 Atkins-approved protein bars to my dog.

I think that life would be considerably easier if God would just give us a phone call every now and then, just a quick chat to clear up some of those nagging questions we all have in life, like, Why am I here? and What should I do with my life? and Will I always be shaped like a Disney character?

After particularly demanding days at the office, I fantasize about coming home to find my answering machine blinking with some Heavenly voicemail.

Hi Jeff,

Its me, God. Sorry I missed you. Hows it going?

I heard that youve been a little confused about the meaning of life, so I thought Id give you a call. I did a little research on your life. Its kind of a funny story, actually. Um, see, it seems that there was a little switcheroo up here in Heaven, and it looks like we accidentally gave your life to some guy named Ben Affleck. Whoops!

Plus, your real body ended up on Brad Pitt. Sorry about that.

I thought it would only be fair if we compensated you in some way. That explains why youre so incredibly well-endowed. Oh, wait Im sorry, I was looking in the wrong file. It looks like you ended up with the ability to never, ever grow a full beard.

Anyway, about your future I was going to turn you into a rich, famous playboy, but unfortunately it looks like the last celebrity slot was just nabbed by some guy who won 30 Seconds to Fame by lifting a cinder block with his penis.

But the one thing youve got on your side is time. As I take a peek in your file to check your expiration date, let me just reassure you that the average American male lives to see 73, so Im sure youve got plenty of years to go. OK, lets see. It says right here that oh, my.

You know, its really the quality of life that counts, not the quantity. Ahem. Im sure that you have plenty of great moments still to come in your life.

Babies, awards, blah, blah, blah. Lets look in your file here at some of the highlights ... Oh. Oh, boy. Er ...

You know what a good motto is? Carpe diem! Youve really got to live each day to the fullest, like it could be your ... cough, cough ... last. But never you mind.

The good news is that you have a pretty wife and a cute albeit retarded Jack Russel puppy. The two of you shall go forth and multiply (you and the wife, I mean) and raise little athletically challenged children like yourselves. Provided that you survive that long. Lets just say that your love handles dont really fall into the fittest category. Hey, you should try that Atkins diet!

As for a career, I was thinking that you could make a living out of writing funny little editorial columns. We just have to find some sucker who will give up space in his magazine to publish it.

Well, that about covers the basics.

Oh, heres a tip: if you go to your 10-year high school reunion, whatever you do, dont try the crab dip. And at next years Fourth of July party, keep as much distance between you and the grill as possible.

And by the way, the third installment of Lord of the Rings coming out in December: freaking awesome!

Alright, good talk, bud. Ill catch you on the flip side. Literally!

Oh, and sorry about the girl hips.