The Catalan says I'm fat.

The other weekend at a bar (the band of my one [white] friend from Mississippi was debuting) I saw the Catalan and Jesus...

My sweater made me look fat, so the Catalan was like, "Hey man, look at you, you are getting fat," and he poked at the love handles that were spilling out over the top of my jeans and accentuated by my sweater.

"Eh," I was like, and I explained to him that it was odd, because of weightlifting my upper body and legs looked good, but my stomach muscles pushed my fat out and made me look oddly chubby.

"That is why I do not lift," he was like, and he pulled up the short sleeve of his t-shirt to show how he had no muscle tone.

"Yeah, but you still got this," I was like, and I smacked his bit of a paunch with the back of my hand, only slightly harder than I meant to, and you could tell he was pissed.

"Sorry!", I was like, "I was joking, I didn't mean to hit you that hard... Don't get in a fight with me, I'd never be able to live with myself if we got in some stupid fight and because of it you were deported."

"You would not be in that situation," the Catalan was like, "Because I would kill you first."