No specific un-aided recollection

I've always been envious of celebrities and the rich.   Because they can afford a personal chef. I thought that would be the way to go. My own chef, who would prepare delicious lo-cal food for me at every meal. That would make getting and staying fit easy.

And then I thought about it. I have a personal chef, ME. I just must hate my client (also me). Cause I've been feeding him garbage for years.

In fact my diet could be considered criminal assault if I forced someone else to eat it. 

Honestly, If my diet was used as a template for feeding children or mentally disabled adults (you know, people who couldn't or wouldn't complain), I'm sure I'd go to jail.

Here's how the scene in the movie would go:

Interior: Government Hearing Chamber. Sign on door:

Legislative Oversight Committee

Mississippi State Home for Adults.

Chairman speaking (read with thick southern accent)

"Mystuh Geh-tree, returning your attention to the morning after this so called 'pizza orgy' where you ordered pizza from every restaurant that would deliver, now...... is it true that the day after the 'orgy'; no breakfast was served to the men in your care?.... is it also true that 'lunch' was reheated pizza crusts, crusts from the afore mentioned orgy I might add......As I understand it you gathered the previously gnawed upon crusts,  wrapped them in damp paper towels and steamed them in the microwave, smeared the soggy warm crusts with cream cheese and served them to these men with bowls of a viscous, warm, butter/garlic/tomato sauce for dipping. Is this true?"

Holding hand over the microphone while lawyer whispers in my ear........ Me, barely audible "I have no specific, unaided recollection"

Chairman "Oh you don't recall? Well.....Let me aid your recollection then"

The Chairman motions and a parade of pizza delivery guys in uniform march in. They each drop stacks of empty pizza boxes in front of my table.  A mountian of boxes takes shape.  (Think Miracle on 54th Street and the bags and bags of mail for Santa.)

Behind me a group of Down Syndrome adult men in the gallery, upon seeing the delivery guys begin chanting " pi-zza or-gy, pi-zza or-gy" My lawyer gathers his papers and leaves in disgust, I hang my head. fade.

But it's all true, My personal chef is a disgrace. He's lazy, arrogant, reckless, negligent and sometimes criminally so.   

As a result of his mismanagement, I've gained enough weight to make a whole other person. My health is declining rapidly and feel bad all the time. Due to his mismanagement I have lost my pizza privileges for the rest of my life. He's got to go before I die.

So he's fired and I found a new guy. I've hired a new chef and he is Awesome!   My new personal chef is Dr. Joel Fuhrman.   

His plan is pretty strict but desperate times call for desperate measures. When I get it cranked up I'll tell you all about it.

Philip Seymour Hoffman's dead who's gonna play me in the movie?