This is a screen shot of the search terms that bring people to my blog. I have to say, I'm a bit surprised. And mostly .... WTF?
I'm shocked that the majority of people coming to my blog are searching for "fat people" here. I was unaware that I was running a blog about fat people, but apparently I must be. I guess they must mean me because the only names in the searches are Pippa Middleton, who is not fat at all, Sara Underwood, who is not only not fat, but smokin' hot, and Rebecca Black, who might get fat when she's older, but for now she isn't fat either. So that just leaves me. I must be the fatty they're searching for.
"fat person", "pictures of attractive fat men", "large fat man" - none of that could be applied to Pippa, Sara or Rebecca. That only leaves me.
I think I resent this. Definitely not skipping my workout tomorrow.
Well, by God, it's Tuesday, and what a Tuesday it is, too. The screen in my Blackberry is broken. I thought I'd be smart and order myself a replacement screen and install it myself without sending the phone away to China for children to fix using tiny elf tools. So much faster and I don't have to go without my phone for even a day. Smart, right?
Yeah, not so much.
I found a video on YouTube detailing how to take my Blackberry apart. It was all totally correct. I got that sucker apart using the little Chinese elf tools that I ordered along with the screen and proceeded to install the new screen.
No cracks in this one, oh yeah!
I put the whole mess back together again, noticing that it was even harder to reassemble than it was to disassemble. The case simply won't snap back together at the top. WTF?!
So anyway, figuring a phone I can use that is partly split in two at the top is better than one I can't use that is neatly put together, I turned the phone on.
White Screen of Death
Nothing comes up except a blank white screen. And the red light flashes to tell me that I have a message of some sort somewhere, but I can't see it.
ARGH!!!
The next day, which is today, I went to work to ask the girl who handles all our phones to send it off and have it fixed. This is my work phone, but it's actually a better model than I'm supposed to have, which is why I didn't just have it sent off in the first place. Well, now I have to. There's no using this thing.
As I'm driving into work, on the interstate in the rain, I get stuck behind some jerkoff who is going 50 mph. I'm not close behind him, but I can't go around him, so I sit there. Well, Jerkoff doesn't want to share that lane he's in with anyone else, so he starts flashing his brake lights at me. I'm nowhere near this idiot, so I assume he's just scared of water. But then he starts flashing them on-off-on-off-on-off again and again, so there is no mistake that he is harassing me, several car lengths back.
Only a blind man could look at me back where I am and mistake me for being on his tail, so clearly this guy isn't under the impression that I'm tailgating. He's just a dick. As I realize this, he jumps on his brakes - ON THE INTERSTATE IN THE RAIN! Well, I'm far enough back that I have plenty of time to react to this rolling vagina, and as it happens an off-ramp that I already need has just appeared, so I simply change lanes over to the off-ramp and sit on my horn as I race past him doing about 55 mph in a 70 zone. He's slowed to a near stop now ON THE INTERSTATE IN THE RAIN, but predictably, after I passed him, he suddenly found his accelerator and came after me.
Yes, because I was using the same road as him and HOW DARE I DO THAT!
Fortunately, his car is slow and the off-ramp is only one lane, so I flipped my mirror to 'night' and ignored his stupidity. When the ramp merged with another highway, he attempted to cut me off from behind, but I didn't need off because I wasn't taking that highway. So I ignored him and continued looping around to another ramp that leads to another road.
He seemed to be the sort of person who drives with his face perpetually in his rearview mirror, so I'm certain that he saw that I didn't need over and thus hadn't been affected by his jackassishness. And I'm equally certain that this pissed him off, which suits me fine because he was a total asshole.
When I got to work, there was no electricity. All my computers were off. The lights were off. People were standing around sweating because there was no air conditioning. And, of course, that girl who handles our phones was nowhere to be found.
The thing is, every single time I've ever needed her, I can't find her. Yesterday I phoned her and left a message to please call me back, but she never did. I saw her in the hall and asked her if she got my message. She said "yes" and acted as if my request to "please call me back" was just a funny suggestion and not an actual request to PLEASE CALL ME BACK.
Today, I need her again. Of course she's not around. I sometimes wonder if she only works here part time, but I haven't asked. She's never here. So I sent an email saying "my phone is broken. Please let me know when you are in your office so I can bring it to you."
I can guess what's going to happen with this email. Nothing. Not a thing. I'll never hear from her.
So I reinstalled my old, broken screen. Guess what? It works. WTF? My brand new screen just gives me a blank white screen, but my old broken one works. Granted, its still broken and now its worse than ever, but at least I can use the phone to some limited extent, unlike before.
So, until I can run this girl down and make her take my phone to be fixed I am limping along on half a phone.
Well, it's Thursday, obviously, except in Australia and New Zealand, and I can't think of what the hell I've done with my week thus far. I know that I've been wasting my nights away watching reruns of "That 70s Show" the past few nights, because that was the last thing that I did last night.
I know that I watched a killer episode of "Attack of the Show" last night in which Sara Underwood participated in the "Naked Bike Ride" through the heart of Portland, Oregon, because the sight of Sara riding nude, or nearly nude, set my heart to racing. That was nearly 20 hours ago and I'm still all worked up about it. Wow, she's hot!
Sara Underwood
I did manage to make it to my workout yesterday for lunch. We had a substitute instructor and her workouts are always very different than our regular instructor. There were 2 or 3 very attractive college girls in the class, plus one woman who looked like she could be in Playboy if she wanted to. I have to admit, they were a little distracting.
Much to my surprise, as we were leaving, one of the good looking college girls smiled at me and said "Hi" and after I said "Hi" back she kept smiling and looking at me as I passed by. I'd like to think that she found me attractive somehow, seeing as that extra long eye contact often means that, but I honestly have no idea what was going on. Maybe she was just in a really good mood and thought that I needed some cheering up? Or maybe she thought I was a big dork and wanted to see if she could embarrass me into peeing myself?
Hi there
I just got back from eating lunch with a friend. We struggled for things to talk about at first. I theorized that the military must have its own relatively secret space program because NASA doesn't seem to be entrusted with jack crap anymore. He said NASA has done a number of projects for the military that then disappeared somewhere. We attempted to talk about weird things we had seen on TV recently, mostly debating the merits of "1000 Ways To Die" and whether or not it is good for him to allow his young sons to watch that show which his own wife won't watch. And then, somehow, we ended up on the subject of wild plagues in nature, including bamboo, wild pigs, panthers and some idiot who dressed up as Bigfoot in order to scare some joggers only to end up shot with a dart by a forest ranger. The dart was intended for bears, so it killed him. His obituary should read, "cause of death: fatal stupidity."
There is a "turbo kickboxing" class today at my gym. I talked to the instructor on Tuesday. She said it's about 30 minutes of kicking, then 2 minutes of something she called "a turbo workout" where you do something or other as fast as you can for 2 full minutes, slow down to catch your breath, then another 2 minutes, repeat until vomitous, and then back to kicks again at the regular pace, finishing up with abs and stretching. If I were going to join this class I'd need to have brought my gym stuff with me today, but I notice that I haven't, so apparently I'm not going to. Maybe next week?
Oh, and also, there was only one guy in the entire class and the only kicks I saw them doing were front leg groin kicks, which are not my favorite thing, by any means. A room filled with women doing groin kicks probably explains the lack of any male participants more than anything else about that class. Even so, I may try it out at some point.
So that's all I have to say today. I know this isn't terribly exciting for you to read, but you do realize that I'm just a guy who lives an ordinary life, right? I'm not a secret agent or anything, and if I was I'd have to kill you after you read my blog if I wrote about secret agent things. So that would mean I would never have very many readers because they'd all be dead. I don't think Dooce does that, so I probably won't either.
Last night, I had every intention of being good. I have 3 books I needed to read from, plus a guitar in need of practice, and a letter I needed to research and write.
Actually, the guitar itself isn't the one in need of practice. It's me that needs the practice, but I need the guitar to do it with.
So I put all 3 books on the couch and I leaned my guitar against the chair next to the couch. Then I flipped on the TV just to relax for a minute before I started doing the things I was supposed to do.
A 2 1/2 hour special on Iron Maiden's last world tour was on. I remember Iron Maiden. I saw them years ago when I was in high school. I still have the concert shirt I bought and the album from that tour. It's in flawless condition because I only ever played it long enough to record and then put away. Then I'd play the hell out of my recording until I wore it out and record it again.
Needless to say, I watched the entire 2 1/2 hour special. It was fascinating. They have their own jumbo jet. Bruce, their lead singer, is a pilot and he flew the thing himself, along with a copilot. The old 20 foot tall Eddie is now a fully functional robot that stomps around onstage with them while a guy stands backstage and works it with a remote control. It was amazing to watch. It was like they hadn't aged much at all because they sounded exactly like they did when I saw them live long ago. They haven't missed a beat or lost a step or whatever you say for heavy metal bands that are still kick-ass after a gazillion years.
As I watched the show, I realized I wasn't getting much done, so I pulled out my guitar and just ran scales over and over again during the commercials or whenever no one was singing or talking. And I sucked at them, too, which only emphasized how badly I needed to practice.
The show was apparently some sort of documentary filmed by some guys from Canada. It was awesome. Predictably, I got very little reading done. I got very little research done. And I did not get my letter written.
Over the years, a great deal of confusion has arisen as to what, exactly, the various differing forms of government are really all about, and what the differences are in their approach to basic economics. With that in mind, I have attempted to explain as many of the world's governing economic theories as possible by using farm animals.
Socialism
You have 2 cows. The State takes one and gives it to your lazy, drug-addicted neighbor who never works. Then they tax you on both cows.
Communism
You have 2 cows. The State takes both cows and gives it to the police. Then they shoot you and send your family to labor camps as punishment for your 'greed'
Fascism
You have 2 cows. The State takes them, but forces you to continue taking care of them and milking them. Then you have to buy the milk from The State.
Nazism
You have 2 cows. The State determines that you are Jewish and probably obtained those cows through trickery and deceit, so they take the cows and send you to a death camp.
Bureaucratism
You have 2 cows. The State determines that your cows are polluters and mandates that you fit them with carbon-filter diapers and feed them only fresh fruit and vegetables. Also, the cows must be documented to determine if they might be secret terrorist agents. One of the cows 'moos' and The State tasers it to death, then charges you with resisting arrest. You are taken to jail and Tasered for several days until it is discovered that The State actually meant to go to the farm next door and ended up at your farm by mistake. You are set free with no apology or admission of wrong-doing by The State. You now have one cow and severe emotional trauma from being tortured. You have nightmares and flashbacks and fall into a deep depression that leaves you unable to maintain your cow. The cow dies from neglect.
Capitalism
You have 2 cows. You sell one and buy a bull. Your herd multiplies you become wealthy. You sell them and retire on your own earned wealth.
Current American Capitalism
You have 2 cows. The US Congress decides that you are a racist because black farmers don't have as many cows as you. The Department of Justice kicks in your door with a 'no-knock' warrant, shoots your wife and kicks you in the testicles despite the fact that you were surrendering. They drag you to Washington where you are forced to testify before the House as to why you are a racist who doesn't allow black farmers to have cows. Barney Frank orders you to give your cows to random inner city black people who aren't even farmers. Now you have no cows. The people who now have your cows don't take care of them and they die. Banks are ordered to package and sell shares in American farms without revealing that the Government has stolen all the cows from the farms. Investors are duped into buying the bad farm stocks. The stocks nosedive. The economy collapses. Barney Frank has you arrested again and dragged back before Congress. He accuses you of "testosterone-fueled crimes and reckless farming resulting in the destruction of the economy." You try to point out that it was the Government itself that wrecked the economy, but are warned to shut up or be charged with contempt of Congress and Tasered in the genitals until you are dead, which Congress insists does not qualify as torture. You ask for Congress' definition of 'torture' because it is illegal to torture in the United States according to Federal Law. You are informed that Federal Law doesn't provide an actual definition of torture in the law prohibiting torture and thus it is legal to torture you. You marvel at the circular logic. The Press reports that you and all other "testosterone poisoned" farmers like you are to blame for wrecking the economy. Meanwhile, Barney Frank and the US Department of Justice resumes arresting white farmers and taking their cows to give to black people who live in the inner city. The economy falls into full fledged Depression. The Press reports that the economy is actually in a Recovery. No one sees any signs of a Recovery. Inflation explodes. There are no jobs. The Press attempts to distract from the disastrous economy by reporting on harmless emails from Sarah Palin and 'junk shots' from Representative Weiner. You begin moving what is left of your family to Canada. At the first available opportunity, you flee to Vancouver and become a Canucks fan. You boo Boston with extreme enthusiasm and warn your children to never again set foot in the United States for any reason because the authorities there are corrupt and out of control. You are assassinated by US Army Rangers who illegally crossed the border in search of 'terrorist' farmers who escaped from America. Your children flee to Australia and buy 2 cows. They begin farming again and become prosperous. Australia wins the World Cup. China invades America, confiscating all American assets and selling them on Ebay.
Enron Capitalism
You have 2 cows. You sell three of them to your publicly listed company using letters of credit opened by your brother-in-law at the bank, then execute a debt/equity swap with an associated general offer so that you get four cows back, with tax credits for five cows. The milk rights of the six cows are transferred via an intermediary to a Cayman Island company secretly owned by the majority shareholder of your company, who sells the rights to seven cows back to your listed company. The annual report says that your company owns eight cows, with options to buy one more. You sell one cow to buy stock in Worldcom, leaving you with listed assets of nine cows. No balance sheet is ever included with your quarterly or annual reports. The public buys your bull.
Anderson Model Capitalism
You have 2 cows. You shred them both.
French Socialist Capitalism
You have 2 cows. You go on strike, organize a riot and block the road because you want 3 cows. No one is tending your cows.
Japanese Capitalism
You have 2 cows. You redesign them so they are 1/10th the size of an ordinary cow, but produce the same amount of milk. You create a cow cartoon called 'Cowkimon' and market it successfully worldwide. You use the money from Cowkimon to build a video game company that produces Cowkimon games and merchandise. The first Cowkimon movie is a raging success. You become a billionaire.
German Socialist Capitalism
You have 2 cows. You re-engineer them so they live for 100 years, eat once a month and milk themselves while you go to a bar and get drunk.
Italian Socialist Capitalism
You have 2 cows, but you don't know where they are. You go out for lunch and a nap.
Spanish Socialist Capitalism
You may have 2 cows, but you aren't sure because you haven't seen them in awhile. You don't care.
Russian Socialist Capitalism
You have 2 cows. The police arrest you and charge you with tax evasion. Your cows are given to Putin's brother-in-law. You are never allowed to speak at any of your trials. There is no evidence of your guilt, yet you are still held in prison. You are never seen or heard from again.
Swiss Capitalism
You have 5000 cows. None of them belong to you. You charge the farmers for storing them on your property.
Chinese Fascism
You have 2 cows. You are not allowed to milk them without a permit from the Government. The Government decides to only allow you to milk one cow. A farm supervisor is appointed to 'help' you run your farm. He reports that you have 20 cows and 300 people milking them. The Government says your farm has full employment and high bovine productivity. Anyone who says otherwise is arrested and shot.
Indian Capitalism
You have 2 cows. You build a house for them and worship them. You live in a mud hut and eat grass.
British Socialist Capitalism
You have 2 cows. Both are mad. The Government has installed 10,000 CCTV cameras on your farm to monitor you and your cows. You masturbate to photos of Pippa Middleton and dream of moving to Spain.
Iraqi Capitalism
Everyone thinks you have many cows. You tell them you have none while secretly moving your 2 cows to Syria. American Intelligence reports to the President that you have 100 cows. They bomb the shit out of you. Your 2 cows in Syria are eventually discovered, but by then no one believes that you had any cows at all. One of your cows escapes to Pakistan where it is shot dead.
New Zealand Capitalism
You have 2 cows. The one on the left is looking pretty sexy.
Australian Capitalism
You have 2 cows. Business is good, so you close the office and go for a few celebratory beers.
Totalitarianism
You are the cow. Give us milk right now or else we'll kill you and eat you.
Fundamentalism
You have 2 cows. You make one cow a god and accuse the other cow of blasphemy against the cow god.
I need a vacation and I need it now. I just wasted 1 1/2 hours trying to get information about vacation rentals in Florida. Let me just say, Sandestin Golf and Beach Resort has the worst customer service of anyone I have ever dealt with, and yes, I let them know it. I wouldn't be surprised of the voice message I left for them ends up on the internet. I didn't hold back
Anyway, aside from raging at the high school jerkoffs who don't want to do their jobs at Sandestin, I have something else on my mind.
Years ago I had reconnected with a group of friends from way back. At first they acted like my new best friends. But it wasn't long before I noticed that all the females in the group tended to gang up on everyone else, especially if you ever dared to disagree with them about anything. In fact, one of the women even warned me about the others before rejoining them.
Group Think
It didn't take long for me to get truly sick and tired of the gang-think and their insistence that we all think alike (translation: agree with them or else.) Anything I said relating to my own beliefs, on the internet or in person, they ganged up on and attacked. It got to the point where I didn't want to interact with them unless they were drinking and too busy laughing to bother me about the fact that I'm not a spineless wimp who agrees with whatever they say just to appease them the way many of their husbands and ex-husbands did.
Eventually, we all joined Facebook. We all added each other as friends. I had 2 accounts, one only for friends who knew me exclusively through the internet, and another for people who knew me in real life, but knew nothing about me on the internet. Because this group of friends knew me in both places I added them to both accounts. They were the only ones to get this privilege.
Having the same friends on 2 accounts which I wanted kept totally separate proved problematic, as they would tag me in photos, but not pay attention to which one of my accounts they had tagged me from. After awhile I realized that they were as confused by my dual accounts as I was by trying to keep them separated. So I dropped them from the internet Facebook account and kept them on the real-life Facebook account.
They took great offense at this, but didn't say much about it to me, only to each other. Months later, one of them went off on me in a tirade about how I had deleted them because they disagreed with things I posted (all the time.) I told them why I deleted them from the one account - it was damned confusing - and they all said they understood. But even before this happened, whenever they got together in person to party, I noticed that I was not invited. After I dropped them from the internet-only account, things only got worse.
The last several times they've all come to town to meet and hang out, even though they knew I was in town, they didn't mention it to me. One time I just happened to go to the same bar as them on a night when they were all there, several having come in from out-of-town, and all drinking. I sat down at the table they were at because I recognized several of my other friends sitting there and those friends had invited me over. When I looked around and saw this group of friends, they were not smiling and not happy to see me.
They claimed they were just tired.
Last Friday night, once again, they all came to town. They all got together and had a big party. I was in town. I was not invited. When I asked about this, they gave the usual excuses. "Oh, we were just getting together for a few hours. It was no big thing." Except that it was big enough for all of them to be there and not tell only one person from the group - me.
The big source of disagreement between all of them and me seems to be ... everything - politics, religion, morality, fundamental beliefs, right and wrong.
So after this last blow-off, I'm thinking of just dropping them all. We already don't hang out, by their choice, so I don't see any point in keeping them among my friends on Facebook. It isn't as if they talk to me on there anyway. All it does is allow me to see how many times they've gotten together while I was in town and left me out of it. I can't see much point to that. It certainly doesn't improve my day any, and they couldn't give a shit how I feel. So why keep them among my friends when they so clearly don't wish to be?
I know there will be drama. It doesn't matter that they blow me off. All that will matter is that I made that final cut and dropped them from a list on Facebook. And they will give me shit. And they will lie their asses off and say they never shut me out or excluded me or talked bad about me or didn't want to be friends with me. And it will just increase my stress.
My stress is already sky high these days. I don't need any more of this.
So anyway, that's what is on my mind right now. It isn't why I sat down to blog, but it's what came out. I'm as surprised as you are.
Perhaps this will help me relax and calm down before going to bed:
Last night, at just after midnight, I was driving home. I had left my car in a shopping center parking lot and by the time I left there I was the only car on the road. The night had that eery dreamlike feeling that comes with the after-midnight hours and being all alone on a normally busy road. And I was tired, which added to the dreamlike quality of it all.
As I pulled onto the road, I saw a fuzzy little rabbit sitting in the middle of the street in front of me. So I ran him over.
No, I'm joking. I didn't run over the rabbit. I slowed down and watched him. He turned and ran to the side of the road. And then he began running down the sidewalk for as far as I could see him. I was surprised. I had expected him to zig and zag and then disappear into some bushes, but apparently he liked the sidewalk and just stuck to it.
I'm thinking he must have been a very young rabbit, because he was very small, and also an older rabbit would have said "to hell with this concrete hurting my feet. I'm running on the grass and maybe just ducking into some bushes." Only a young rabbit would view a hard concrete sidewalk like a personal dragstrip and use it to see how fast he could go.
zero to gone in 3.2 seconds
After the rabbit disappeared, I drove on towards home. I cut through a neighborhood that has damn stupid speed 'humps' installed, which makes me drive about 2 mph and throws all the crap inside my car around each time I go over one, not to mention the destruction of my suspension.
Once I made it through the neighborhood, I turned right onto a winding 2-lane road that divides 2 large subdivisions and began heading west towards my neighborhood. I drove over a short, steep hill and and down the other side. As I reached the bottom and continued on, I noticed something in the shadows out of the corner of my eye, over to my right.
I slowed and looked to see what it was.
There, as big as life, and showing no fear of me whatever, was a giant damn coyote, calmly eyeing me as he jogged through the front yard of the family who lives at that house while they were soundly sleeping inside, likely with no idea that a wild predator was patting across their lawn just outside their bedroom windows.
I jog through this neighborhood, and right past this house, often late at night when the temperatures are cooler.
This is the middle of the city. This isn't the countryside. And this neighborhood is older than I am by a good bit, built sometime in the early 1960s, I believe. So it isn't as if the coyote's territory was recently developed and he hadn't moved on yet. He, apparently, was a city-slicker coyote and was probably looking for that rabbit I had just seen.
I went home to bed, but I dreamed of late night coyotes and rabbits and being alone in the dark all night long. And it was creepy.
Nice doggy, don't eat the joggers
Here is some video footage of a smaller, Canadian coyote demonstrating why it's a bad idea to harass them. They will come after you if you bother them, and sometimes even if you don't.
This post is for someone who probably doesn't read my blog, and it's just as well, because I don't think it would do any good for her to hear this anyway. Even so, I want to get this off my chest.
Yes, honey, you are very pretty. And oh-so-young. And yes, you have large, beautiful breasts that match your large, beautiful eyes.
And no one, but no one, is more enthralled by your beauty than you are.
Yes, you are your biggest fan. And you aren't shy about letting it be known, either. It seems you can't write about a big social engagement, or concert, or art show, or whatever it is that you're supposedly covering there in the lovely city of Toronto, without commenting on how hot you look in the many, many photos of yourself that you post, and how big your breasts are, and how curvaceous your body is.
Why not try letting your 'fans' discover this for themselves for a change, eh? Why not simply post photos relating to the event, only one or two of which include a shot of you, perhaps not dancing and playing your 'leg guitar' and shaking your ass around, so that we can see what event it is that you were at in the first place?
You and I, we were 'friends,' if only for a short time. You drove me insane in that time, always talking baby-talk and saying "fanks" instead of "thanks"" and replacing every "th" with an "f" like some child with no front teeth. And the fake British accent you frequently fall into, my God, it's annoying after the millionth time. You're not British, you're Canadian, so why not just talk normal, eh? If you're so awesome and so hot, why do you feel the need to add these pretentious devices to your speech, which only serve to annoy the shit out of everyone, including the people who love you despite yourself and try ever-so-gently to tell you to stop it?
I know next to nothing about your family life, where you come from and how you became so deeply insecure. But I do know that you have a great circle of friends, many of whom have their own troubles and insecurities to deal with. But they somehow seem better able to deal than you are. I wonder why that is? You have so much more going for you than most of them do, yet your gigantic and fragile ego threatens to wreck it all.
Anyway, "fanks" for the short time you were nice to me. Maybe you'll be a big star someday? I just hope you don't crash and burn because of your fragile inflated ego. We'd see your pretty face on the news being hauled off to rehab or jail because you'd totally lost it and tried to prop yourself up again with drugs. Either you'll rise to be a star or you'll gain more weight and suddenly lose that special something that makes you outshine several of your friends and competitors. You are truly right on the edge, teetering between sexy curves and dumpy. If you let that happen, you'll fade into the gray, like most of the rest of us.
You never were a very good friend, really. But that doesn't mean that I want to see you crash and burn.
It's Thursday, I have to pee, I just got out of a meeting, I just watched a VLog made by a beautiful Canadian blogger who made me laugh, and I've just started reading a new book. The book is:
DarkHouse
This book was written by said beautiful Canadian blogger, whom you may know as Wanderlusting, and I highly recommend both the book and her blog.
Wanderlusting - published author
Well, after running the big race, doing poorly, not puking, and getting a major sunburn, I have not gone to the gym one single time this week. Call me lazy. Call me sore and limpy. Call me a pussy. Just don't call me Ethel. I'll get back to it next week.
Feed me, bitch
And whatever you have to say about my gym-skipping, don't compare me to this man. Dude was so fat and lazy that he sat down in a chair and 2 years later they had to pry his ass out of it because his butt had literally become fused to the material of the seat. What I want to know is, how the hell did this guy manage to get and keep a girlfriend who not only stayed with him while he sat there growing fatter and fatter, but also fed him so he wouldn't have to get up? He must be one hell of a super ladies man.
OK, so, since yesterday I posted what is arguably the worst music video/ad of all time, once I saw this I felt obligated to post it, too:
It's Friday, Friday, Friday ... except that it isn't
