Archived Blog Sept 9 2005

Friday, September 09, 2005

Sometimes You Feel Like a Big, Fat, Huge, Nerdy, Unattractive, Awkward, Creepy, Stupid Nut; Sometimes You Don’t.

Hey folks, suffolks, and norfolks. How’s livin’? Y’all be chillin’? Chillin’ like a villain? Or is you just illin’? Don’t speak that jive talk to me, young man! I’ll wash your dirty, little mouth out with soap. That’s better. Well, anyway, for all you folks, suffolks, and norfolks who read my blog, I will have a big, wet, juicy, sticky treat for you in a couple of weeks. That’s right, you guessed it! I am going to post actual pictures of the rat that bit me, and actual pictures of me, talking to it! Yay! There is a god! (Not really).

A note: If you look at my previous blog, I added a little message concerning the things I said about the mayor of Biloxi. Even though he probably is a jerk, I must rescind my comments about his usage of hyperbole, as now I realize that, if anything, it is only slight exaggeration. Next time, I should probably wait a little bit before putting my foot inside of my mouthular cavity. Of course, my utmost respect and hope goes out to those who were in some way victimized by Katrina.

This brings me to the subjects of my blog today. My fat, no-game-having ass and gentrification in the area in manhattan in which I reside, and then a little bit of baby stabbing.

So I went home last weekend, and, to my surprise, I found out that I am a fat, worthless, piece of shit, from my parents. They are right of course. When I was in high school, I went as low as 155 pounds (I think). Now I have ballooned up to an astonishing 325. That’s not all muscle weight. For a while, I was thinking that I would go for the Guinness record of worlds fattest man, because for someone like me, that’s much easier that going for world’s thinnest man. My metabolism is so messed up. Drinking water makes me fat! Breathing makes me fat! Exercising actually makes me fat. I’m totally screwed here. So some of you might be saying, “Who cares if you’re fat? It’s just more of you to love. Trust me, I’m an attractive woman and I love fat guys. I like thin guys too, so if you ever thin out I won’t leave you. Also, I have a PhD in astrophysics and I never wear panties.” If you are one of those people saying that, please come and meet me so I can have sex with your fine ass, woman. Yeah baby, you know you want it. That’s right, sugar. Aww, where you going, sweetie pie? You just gonna leave me like that, baby? That’s cool. That’s cool. Bitch.

Below: If only I could be this skinny again...

So, how am I unfattifying myself, you ask? Well, my fat dad gave me a bunch of his fat shakes so I can drink them and not be fat. That works ok when you don’t have twelve in a row. Also, I bought a lot of instant popcorn, which is really filling and fun to make. Also, I’ve been eating a lot of California condor meat, which is very lean. I wish dodos were still around so I could kill them all and eat them too. And, as usual, I work out. Of course, when I say work out, I mean I vigorously masturbate to punch-porn (porn where people punch people). That takes some calories. Then I cry in the shower, which also sheds a little bit of water weight. So, I am well on the way to losing some of this fat, lardy, fat, ugly, fat weight.

Above: The cat version of me. Below: The dog version of the cat version of me.

Ever since my ex-girlfriend and current almost hurricane Katarina dumped me, my sex drive has started to come back, and now I’m on the prowl again. So, expect an “I hate women” entry to occur sometime soon in this blog. My plan is thus. I’m too much of a fat fuck to even deserve a girl. I don’t deserve one. I don’t deserve to eat, I’m so fat. I don’t even deserve to not be fat. That’s how fat I am. After I unfattify myself, I will start my new girl campaign which will go something like this. I will talk to girls randomly in public until I’m not scared of it anymore. And, I will only talk to girls that are way out of my league. If that doesn’t work out perfectly, I will go back to craigslist, and download some new punch-porn. What about kick-porn, you say? Kick-porn is disgusting and is for perverts. You make me sick.

So I live in the Dominican Republic, otherwise known as Washington Heights. I heard the other day that there was this big anti-gentrification rally around my area. That’s right. The Dominicans want the white people out because that is their neighborhood! Yeah! Fuck the white people! Fuck the white people! Fuck the… wait a second… this stinks of extreme racism. Sure, white people are evil, but not all of them. It is unbelievable to me that the Dominicans wouldn’t welcome people living in their area with open arms. After all, white people did found the city. Show some love. And then they mask this whole thing with the term Anti-Gentrification, which should actually be called, Anti-White-People-We’re-Jerks. That’s all I have to say about that shit.

Below: A man who definitely makes more money than me and is happier in his life. Leave me alone, you bastard! God, I wouldn't want to live there if the rent wasn't so cheap. The apartment sucks anyway.

So, a baby got stabbed about a block from my apartment by a man who lives less than two hundred feet from me. Shocking, right? That baby must have said something really awful to piss that guy off. Maybe the baby owed him money. Maybe the baby was just crying. The problem with that is that you don’t get a baby to stop crying by stabbing it, although it is a feasible option. Here’s the secret. If you want to stop a baby from crying, shake the living shit out of it. Just shake it and shake it and shake it like a yoo-hoo until the baby stops. That’s what responsible parents do. Only if this technique doesn’t work do you then stab the baby. If that fails also, a surefire but expensive way of calming the baby down is gently rocking it while at the same time detonating a nuclear bomb and point-blank baby range. That’ll shut it up. It the baby is still crying, then it’s Harry Potter.

Below: What a cute and--most importantly--quiet baby! The original poster had twenty-seven "NEVER"s on it, but they thought it was a little too much. I disagree.

Well, that’s my crappy forced out blog entry for today. Good luck to Shaq and all the people affected by Katrina. I send my love (but no money).