Category — Random Stuff

I’ve been starving myself for the past two weeks, and the anorexic me had totally forgotten what a bitch the fat me is. That is until this morning when I found these on my desk. Apparently I placed the order back when I was eating everything within a 100 mile radius.  I hate myself, but not nearly as much as I do the little crack dealer who sold them to me.

Don’t forget to phrase your answer as a question!

Below is a picture of Frosty the Snowman’s homeless, illegitimate brother. He cropped up on the street corner the other day after a rare snowstorm. What’s striking about him is not so much his lack of personal hygiene as his complete and total lack of proportion.  That’s why I took his picture – because he reminds me of my own lack of proportion, e.g. a tiny head atop a big, fat body. In other words, Frosty got all the good genes while me and this guy got the fucking shaft.

Emaciated Lady and I don’t usually participate in Facebook status update idiocy because we like to keep our idiocy private, or at the very least anonymous. This is why, while other fools are out there posting profile pics of their supposed celebrity doppelgangers, we’re privately stroking each other’s egos over gchat.

Here’s Emaciated Lady’s most recent attempt at stroking mine: “You officially look like Gisele. I see you all over this picture.”

Unfortunately, this does little for my ego since I know Emaciated is FULL OF SHIT. Seriously, people, I look nothing like this. Emaciated Lady is a liar and I’m a troll.

Last night I dreamt that one of my coworkers snuck into my house and stole a sandwich I was frying up in a puddle of butter. She did it in stages, grabbing a little part each time I turned my back. Then, apparently to compensate me for my loss, she left me a bookshelf/entertainment center. You know what I did? I tracked that bitch down and let her have it. Because nobody, and I mean NOBODY, steals my food. I don’t give a fuck if it is imaginary.

My coworker friend REFUSES to believe that I’m hiding fat under my clothes. We were having a heated discussion after I mentioned needing a girdle Spanx, and just as I was about to to strip down naked to prove my point, she compared me to my impossibly svelte Italian Greyhound. Now I could have been offended that she was comparing me to a dog, but I was actually rather flattered. At a barely there 8 lbs, with long stick-like legs and a waist any woman would die for, my dog is one of the few creatures I’m happy to be compared to. So thank you, coworker friend. I can now  forgive you for that egg nog latte.

Emaciated Lady has written what is perhaps our most controversial post. And while we rarely get negative feedback on our blog, when we do, it’s usually from idiots geniuses like “Piddle,” who has this to say:

Fucking Anorixics – being overweight should as condemned as being anorexic, bulimic and such. Anyone so weak minded that they can’t control their food intake to the point of eating healthy has a serious problem. Anorixics think they have control, but they have none. Their illness controls them, and their ego, creating a primitive desire to feel superior, keeps them locked in this primal state. Anyone exhibiting this type of behavior should be removed from society – but especially the fucking hypocrites. Really, I hardly think that someone with her own sick eating disorder has any right to tear down other people for various other eating disorders. Hate I can tolerate; hypocrisy needs to die.

I’ve decided not to respond to this since Piddle obviously ignored my “Welcome” directive to only chastise us if one can do it smartly. So I’m going to leave this one up to you guys. Have fun!

As I was walking home from the mall today, shopping bags draped from my arm and the word “sucker” apparently tattooed on my forehead, an older gentleman stopped me to ask a question. Let me briefly describe the scene:

It’s windy and dreary outside, the lingering effects of the Nor’easter that swept through the area over the past two days. The man is holding  a styrofoam plate in one hand, on top of which are three bare chicken bones and a piece of white bread, and beneath which are two boxes of Krispy Kreme chocolate glazed donuts. In the other hand, which happens to be speckled with pieces of chicken fat, he is holding a drumstick and is intermittently nibbling it as he asks his question.

But before getting to the question, which is obvious before the asking, he explains that he’s homeless and hungry and this recent storm has felt like another Hurricane Katrina. I knew he was throwing that last bit in for good measure, and I’m not unappreciative of such things. To show my compassion, I opened my wallet and dumped in his hand every last penny I had, which probably totaled about 78 cents.  Then I kicked him in the shins and ran off with his Krispy Kreme donuts because I’m fucking hungry too.