Fat & Ugly

Ok, big fat lie (no pun intended)... That's a stock photo from Microsoft's Clip Art collection. Much has changed in the months that went by since my last post... the world, the balance of power in Congress... even hell froze over by some accounts. Indeed, it seems there is only one constant in the universe - my body mass, and I assure you, there is still no magic and painless way to get brawn from blubber, except some pills that will also kill you.

So I have come to realize that in my growing age, the time to have a first sexual experience has come and gone. Actual sex no more a possibility than it was a year ago, I have come to relish the next best thing... cybersex. Now you see where that picture at the top comes in. Apparently most ladies in chat rooms haven't seen the Microsoft Clip Gallery, or at least they haven't finished it yet. In any case, my cover remains safe and sound. Now, I know what you're thinking... how do you know those girls aren't really gay guys pretending to be girls? Well, DUUUUUH!!!! If they were pretending to be what they're not (and I hate people like that!), they'd know a thing or two about fake pictures, and they wouldn't for a second believe my virtual facade.

Real ladies, on the other hand, seem quite willing, almost eager to believe a fake photo. I sometimes pity the poor things... young, beautiful, sumptuous ladies sitting all alone at their computers on a Friday or Saturday night (often both), waiting for a dashing young stud like me to rescue them from the cold dark abyss of loneliness... and I'm only too happy to oblige. You see, even though I am not there with the lucky lady of that evening, she invariably becomes so charmed and overwhelmed by my eloquence and my sensitivity, that she soon gets all too eager to go from partner in conversation to partner in bed... Some ladies are even willing to forgive me for using a fake photo... at least until they see the real one.

I heard that some of the people in chatrooms aren't even real people... they're talking computer programs written by college computer science students. You know, with the amount of sex computer science students get, I wouldn't be surprised to see them in chatrooms in person. But anyway, I don't believe the rumors - all the chicks I meet in chatrooms sound like real chicks:

Me: Hi, my name's Rufus
She: Nice to meet you, Rufus
Me: Are you horny?
She: Would you prefer if I were not horny?
Me: Have you looked at my pic
She: We were discussing you, not me.
Me: No, you probably haven't
She: Are you saying no just to be negative?
Me: Would you let please me f**k you?
She: You like to think I please let you f**k me, do you not?
Me: Oh yeah... I really like to think that
She: Can you elaborate on that?

So basically it's all talk, no sex... just like a real date, but you don't have to pay for meals and movies.

'Till next time!

If opposites attract, how come hot chicks won't date me?



Folks, you all know me as the fat guy who makes fun of his own kind. But today, I'd like to make fun of someone else's kind: slow people. I'm talking about the people who drive 20 miles under the speed limit, 30 miles under if it's raining (even when they're in a tunnel). I'm talking about the people who stand in front of 20 cars on a green light, and start moving when the light turns yellow. In my humble opinion, these people deserve to die a death that resembles their lives: a slow one.

When a slow person wakes up in the morning, the first thing he does is put on a pot of coffee. He then proceeds to take a shower. Alas, by the time he's done, the coffee has turned cold, and the near-eternal shower left no water in the plumbing for another pot. Fortunately, by then the glaciers will have melted, and the resulting water can be used for brewing another pot.

Eventually, the slowmo triumphs over fate and, morning rituals completed, leaves his home to go to work. This happens at around 11 am. The next day. When approaching a traffic light, the slowmo will invariably stop. After all, how can the slowmo drive and look at the traffic light all at once? (And heaven help us if he's chewing gum, too!) If the light is green, the slowmo will meditate on the greenness, and drive on. By then, the light will have turned yellow, and the slowmo will be the last driver to pass the intersection in that light cycle. One light cycle later, the other fuming drivers pass the intersection, and catch up to the slowmo, who has traveled only six yards since their prior encounter, and the story repeats at the next intersection.

As a rule, slowmos don't get speeding tickets. But they do get parking tickets, usually while driving. A slowmo can tie in a road race with an infant turtle. And that's if the turtle is dead.


Things not to say to a slowmo:

• "Your butt's on fire" (he'll try to see where the fire is, and you'll grow old and die before he budges).
  
• "Can't you see the speed limit???!!!!" (looking at the speed limit will distract him from parking).
  
• "If you were any slower, you'd be moving backwards!" (If I was any faster, the world would end, thinks the slowmo and starts moving backwards. The survival of the world is of little consolation.)
  

Well, there you have it. My rant against slow people. Next week: fat people in politics.

Why want a six-pack when you can have a keg?





Let’s face it: in the past two decades the airline industry experienced strong and unmistakable growth: the growth of its passengers’ rears. Sadly, seats for economy-class passengers have failed to grow together with their inhabitants. We, fat people, have a vast and powerful fast food industry to blame for our hard time “fitting in” (literally). You, however, the health-conscious passenger, have only yourself to blame - if you had a better-paying job, you could have sat in first class.

To help with this um… growing problem, I have developed a few strategies for sitting next to fat people. Hopefully, this will make your next economy flight a little less unpleasant.

Conversation

It is within your interest to break the ice as quickly as possible. After all, your flight will be a long bonding experience full of tears, anguish, and mutual sacrifice. Should you be at a loss for words upon seeing your traveling companion, try one of the following ice breakers:

• “Is it a boy or a girl?”
  
• “I see you brought an extra pillow.”
  
• “I guess the cargo section was full.”
  
• This one is my personal favorite: after you sit down, say “your shoes are untied”, and watch him try to bend over his spare tire yard to tie them.
  

Be careful not to antagonize your new friend too much: in a fight, not only does he have the weight advantage, but he’s much better padded.

Armrests

Decades ago, armrests provided ease and comfort to all passengers. Today, however, any innocent-looking armrest can become the site of a fierce territorial dispute between your elbow and your neighbor’s buttock. Do not raise the armrest!!! Doing so will signal your immediate defeat with all the sacrifices and tribulations it portends. Rather, keep the armrest down. Remember, the inability of your neighbor to fit into the seat is nobody’s fault but McDonalds’.

Meals

Many airlines have made great strides in fighting passenger obesity by reducing the amounts of food available to economy passengers. Fat first-class passengers inconvenience no one, so their meals have not diminished. Here are some key points to consider when eating your pitiful economy excuse for a meal:

• Your neighbor’s portly posterior will leave little room for unfolding his tray table. So, he will probably want to use yours.
  
• Your neighbor’s mini-meal will not satisfy his vast calorie norms. So, he will probably want to eat yours.
  
• Eat your meal with one hand, keeping the other hand on your armrest at all times.
  
• Offer your neighbor your drink. If he has to go to the bathroom, there’s a good chance he’ll get stuck.
  

Sleeping

We all try to catch up on our Z’s on long flights, especially fat people, who need all the beauty rest we can get. Hear are some important precautions to consider:

• Stereotypically (and as we all know, stereotypes are usually correct), fat people snore. A fat snorer can give a roaring turbojet a run for its money. Beethoven once spent an hour with a snoring fatso, and we all know how that ended. Thus, invest in a pair of headphones at the start of a flight.
  
  
• If a sleeping fat neighbor starts leaning in your direction, push him back with both hands, even if it means letting go of the arm rest. You may have to lose a battle to win the war.
  

So there you go. I apologize in advance to my fellow fatmen who may not enjoy such a candid portrait of themselves. Just remember: it’s not our fault. It’s McDonalds’s.