You may be surprised, just looking at my scrawny yet trim frame, to learn that, yes, I eat my feelings. I am one of the many success stories of people who eat their feelings but maintain their figures. It's a miracle! Really! Just look at what I eat! Well, instead of me simply telling you, I have, with my friend, published a guide to hitting rock bottom, eating anything you want, and still retaining your look. Bad Eating Habits with Kyle and Ian: A Guide to Eating Your Feelings is a brand-new self-help book that tells you step by step how to wallow your way to thinness!

Wallowing Is a Dish Best Served Cold. In this chapter, we talk about ice cream.

When in doubt, eat as much of it as possible. I do. In fact, I eat so much ice cream that the grocery clerks sometimes refer to me under their breath as Ben and/or Jerry.

Now, there is a specific routine I follow when eating ice cream. It's not merely the fixin's, for although you may need a spoon, a bowl, and your pint (or gallon, if you so choose), you also need a good supplement to help you wallow. I enjoy watching romantic comedies that exemplify a love-life that I have never experienced and probably never will. Not because I don't try, but because I am too busy eating ice cream and watching romantic comedies. Ian has taken a similar route and, like me, has thrown in the towel completely to focus on his ­wallowing.

Also, it's a good idea to have whipped cream, because whipped cream is amazing. It is so amazing that for my twelfth birthday, I got three cans of it as a present. I finished two of them that day. Most recently, I've been spending time eating Starbucks Java Chip Frappucino ice cream while weeping over “When Harry Met Sally,” “Annie Hall,” and “Casablanca.” That's what I call a typical Friday night.

Carbs are a Singleton's Best Friend. In this chapter, we explore the joys of pasta and bread.

Neither Ian nor I come from an Italian background, but that doesn't stop our amore for Italian cuisine. Pasta is easy to cook and readily available. I'm sure you have some in the pantry. All you have to do is leave your cave of a bedroom and cook it. That is, in my experience, the most difficult thing about pasta: exerting the energy to cook it. However, once that water starts boiling and each noodle is cooked perfectly al dente, all you need is sauce.

I tend to eat pasta in half pounds, though you would never guess it to look at me. Actually, many people assume I don't eat at all, but this book is proof to the contrary. Ian likes pasta, especially spaghetti, and while eating it he takes great joy in slurping and disregarding any table manners he may (or may not) have ever learned.

Pasta is good in bulk, as is the Italian bread that goes with it. This can be prepared simply with butter, or, if you're feeling adventurous (i.e. willing to exert more energy), you can make garlic bread. I guarantee that with the recipe provided here, you will eat at least ten slices. I know this because I've done it. Of course, if you're feeling particularly lazy and can only muster the energy to pick up the phone on the coffee table between you and the TV that is showing “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind,” you can always order delivery from your local Italian eatery. Italian, as I said, is good in bulk. As is wallowing.

Be Your Own Cookie Monster. In which we explore the joy of cookies.

There have been a lot of rumors flying around about turning “Sesame Street”s Cookie Monster into Veggie Monster. That is exactly the kind of thing this book fights against: indoctrinating our children into the mind-set that they should wallow in self-pity with vegetables. Who ever heard of snuggling up with a blanket and a bag of baby carrots and ranch dressing? Exactly.

What you need is store-bought cookies. (We all know that if you bought our book, you have no intention of doing the work to make them yourself.) I do not personally recommend Nestle Tollhouse cookies. They leave a weird aftertaste and are slightly greasy. That's not to say I have never baked them. One time, I made a dozen and ate them while watching “The Devil Wears Prada.” Refrigerated Mrs. Field chocolate chip cookies are always good. Ian just likes any cookies.

Being Called a Chocoholic Is a Compliment. In which we explore the joy of chocolate.

Some people get pleasure from academic or career-oriented success. Some get pleasure from watching Ryan Gosling in “Drive.” And some get pleasure from gorging themselves on Chocolate. Yes, with a capital C, like Christ. It is, like Christ, the Messiah of sweet foods. It is the Father of all Candies. It is our Savior. (There is one exception: Hershey's chocolate. It is the Antichrist. It leaves a terrible ­aftertaste that reminds one of failure and “Jersey Shore,” which are essentially the same thing.)

Chocolate has the power to create euphoria. No, it may not be “good” for you, but if you're single, it's pretty much the closest thing to sex. Truly! This is scientifically proven: The chemicals in chocolate trigger the same endorphins in your brain. I learned that by watching “Down with Love” and read it in Bonk by Mary Roach (great book, check it out).

Chocolate comes in many forms, and almost all are divine. I personally favor Dove chocolate when I cannot get Godiva. Godiva, much like the naked woman on each little square, is something to salivate over. It is the kind of pleasure that lingers on your tongue, that you never want to end. It's a whirl of emotions and tastes and feelings. It's now evident that I have much too much time on my hands. But, anyway, chocolate is awesome.

Let's Get Physical. Or Not. In which we explore working out and not working out.

Ian is able to maintain his figure, and then some, because he is a swimmer. Good for him. Although they require effort, sports ­supposedly make you feel good physically and emotionally. On the other hand, if you choose not to partake in such activities, that fact will just make you more depressed and more prone to eating ice cream.

I commend Ian on his dedication to swimming. I, conversely, like to engage in the classic pastime of sitting on my butt and watching movies. Taking Ian's route will no doubt prove healthier, but since when were we worrying about health?

I made a New Year's resolution to work out more often. I have, since then, kept that resolution once. One time, on a Friday, I legitimately worked out. And, like Quentin Tarantino winning an Oscar in 1994, it never happened again. And just like Tarantino being nominated several times after his win, I have thought about working out many times since, but something better usually comes up, like watching a Swedish film or writing 4,000 words about “Memento” and “American Psycho.” So, when in doubt, get active. Or don't.

The important part of wallowing in your singleness is thinking about yourself – convincing yourself that though others may have found happy relationships with real humans, you maintain an even happier one with food.

Our book comes with handy-dandy recipes, guides for what to buy, and other single activities, including crying, rocking back and forth on your bed, crying, and how best to cover your plate to avoid your tears diluting the marinara sauce. We hope our book gives all readers – not only singletons – the ability to remain in a perpetual state of self-delusion and self-pity. We could call it comfort food, but I wouldn't want you to try eating the book. Instead, this is a guide to eating your feelings.