I have a belly-flattening exercise for you

fatbelly

One that doesn’t require you to lay supine on your back and try, in vain, to connect your hoohaa to your lower jaw by limping through a series of stupid “crunches”. AND, my exercise is so much more effective, AND you can do it anywhere…

It’s called VOMITING.

That’s right. PUKING. The ultimate stomach flattening exercise. Its so easy to begin too! Just contract the stomach flu from an annoying child. OR, better yet, eat a lot of vegetables and then get shit-faced on cheap whiskey. Not only will you see faster results as far as beginning and completing the exercise, but by being drunk you won’t remember how many repetitions your stomach made you do before you were finally allowed to pass out!

As far as results go, if you follow my instructions on a daily basis, for about a week, you are sure to see a tighter, more toned stomach in no time!

A word of warning: Remember I told you that “vomit-toning” can be done anywhere? Well, you may soon find out that it is not YOU controlling WHERE the exercise begins and ends. So, before executing this routine, make sure you are in an environment where you can freely “work out” – and not somewhere like Sears, where people just don’t get “staying in shape” by whiskey…

Songs you loved and lived to regret when you were “clubbing”…

GO ON! Click PLAY. Leave the song on in the background – it’s an accessory to this post. It doesn’t matter if you love it or hate it – or that it’s not from your generation.  No matter what kind of music you obssessed over back in the day, this tune will guide you into my world, so you RECOGNIZE and RELATE  when you read this post – you’ll remember you’ve BEEN THERE too…

This song rocks! Ok, it actually “discos” but still – it’s a great song. I haven’t listened to it for many years  – until tonite  – but I STILL LOVE this song!  

For those of you close to becoming an official “oops i crapped my pantzer”  in the not-so-distant future,  you remember how it was back in the day before the advent of personal computers and You Tube instant gratification downloads.  Back in the olden days kiddies,  if you wanted to hear a song over and over and over…there were fewer options to choose from. So unless you had a kick- ass cassette tape player in your own  car and no curfew…you had about 3:

1. You could buy the tape or album and drive  your parents crazy with the melodic redundancy of one song –  until your father came unglued and so did your  cassette.

2. You could hope to be able to magically locate the song on the car radio on command which, come on…Who are you, Harry Pothead? Anyway, this procedure was hit and miss at best – and if you did manage to find it out of the blue it was usually during a time you had to leave the car in order to be somewhere on time.  (i believe this was how my lifelong “tardy” problem was created) 

 OR

3. You could take your butt to the local night club on the weekends – where it’s almost scriptural that they play ALL songs at least 20 times each on both Friday and Saturday nights.   

I usually erred on the side of caution and picked the sure-thing  – the club thang. If you think about it –  it really was the most sensible choice of all.   Two birds for the price of one could be slaughtered by  “clubbing” on the weekends.  First off –  I might get lucky again and manage to  meet yet another “really cool guy who turns out to be an idiot stalker – showing up in the middle of the night to throw rocks at the wrong window of the wrong house for  a couple hours before dousing everything around with gas and burning the house  down to the ground in a fit of rage –  because “I ignored his pleas for me to come out and talk to him at 3 a.m. , causing him to do this HORRIBLE thing (Hey STUPID…you’re the asswipe that got the wrong house, remember? ), that he really didn’t want to do!”   And secondly – – I’d be dressed  up and  looking good.  I knew I’d be out on the dance floor ALL NIGHT and with a buzz!  Gettin’ down to the tunes with a hot guy –  especially every time they played my song all weekend.   And Friday night couldn’t come fast enough for this girl… …

By the way…just in case you forgot to click the video…here it is again…

Ok let’s switch gears here and I’m going to take you for a nostalgic ride through Realities Past – (Ladies, most of you will more than likely be able to completely relate to this next part) 

So let’s talk about Friday nights spent going clubbin’.   You’re already there in your mind aren’t you?   Pumped up –  hanging with your girls.  Ready to do some drinking  – will be looking GOOD out there  burning up the dance floor –  gyrating to that SONG you can’t wait to hear. But sometimes Friday nights don’t always go as you had hoped, isn’t that right?   Remember THOSE nights?

There you’d sit – all dressed up, looking totally FLLLLLLLLYYYYYY, slightly buzzed from a 2 hour head start sucking down Jose. Talking SMACK with the Freaks   and the rest of the clowns at the bar.  And you’d heard at least 10 songs that were played twice already – not yours yet. But it’s ok. It’s Friday night! The night’s young.  You’re patient.  You know how it is clubs.  You wait it out. Everyone wants their song played NOW – but you know it’s gonna happen – you’ll hear it when the time’s right.  Just relax and keep drinking. …

All this waiting and drinking is getting you a bit drunker, isn’t it?   The DJ should be getting ready to play  your song pretty soon – it’s getting near midnight. So there you sit….So there you drink…waiting..drinking….Once in a while you mix up the waiting room by dancing with random guys to songs that are OK, but not great like THE song…  It’s hot out on that floor…isn’t it?

Oh hey! Remember that “guy”?  Who you ask?  WHO?  O MY GOD come on girl…That dude you used to call “Jerky Boy”…the ONE NO ONE WANTED TO DANCE WITH????  Yeaaaah…that same sweaty slob with the hands that was hanging around your table earlier…drooling…is he retarded? Oh my God …He was pestering you for like 15 minutes to dance with him…Did you see him when you came out of the bathroom, trying to catch your eye…What is he doing? TRACKING your ass? ugh… He’s probably in the bathroom, plucking his vienna saugsage…fantasizing about you doing the Humpty Hump all over him….eewwwww…. 

You keep drinking…where the HELL is that song?  …it’s 12:30 am…

Sorry to bother you in your reverie, but I almost forgot ….Remember why you and your girls call him “Jerky Boy?”  No not that…too obvious already…No, the other thing..you remember..Every Friday and Saturday night, at THIS club, there he is …performing his sadASS  rendition – SOLO no less –  of that idiotic  “night at the roxbury” move – trying to half-sandwhich every traumatized female stupid enough to try to be  “nice” and give him just ” one” dance  ..you know so he stays the hell off their cases….. Oh My God..what a dweeb.  I can’t believe he’s still doing that same old shit …hasn’t he been coming here like ..for ever?…  But you’re not going down that road though, are you?  When your song’s ON, you’re gonna grab a guy who’s  F-I-N-E fine-enough to be seen with your ass, right? ! 

girl6

But meanwhile back at reality ranch…..

The Humpty Hump’s been humped 56 times – isn’t anyone sick of it YET?  And you’re still waiting for that DAMN song to be played ONCE before 2 a.m… Thank God for booze. Feeling well-past tipsy are we?  Maybe a little blurry ?

Shit, it’s almost 1 a.m….With that one eye that’s still a bit open you see all the fine guys…and shit! most of the random ones too have pulled an Elvis and left the building.  Not good…. OH wel…Wait! what’s that?

Oh My God….They’re finally playing IT!….FINALLY!  Oh Holy CRAP!  There’s No ONE to dance with ….(look around, remember this part?) …except..ughhh…Goober here. Dammnnn… he’s already caught your eye and he’s coming this way.  Oh hell, it’s  just 5 minutes of your life – a small  sacrifice to pay for finally your turn with YOUR SONG!   Just ignore him while you’re out there…pretend he’s not even here…sorta “dance-hop” away from  him gradually…. ….and…Shit, maybe he won’t even notice your gone – he’s so into being such a ….dweeb sandwhich…

Remember those nights? Gotta love em’ girl. So what happens next again?   Something like…

THIS maybe?

Alright! You made it to the floor and your’e gyrating with all you are to the beat of that one song you’ve been obsessing on ALL freakin’ week….and  fighting off this  fucking yo-yo, who’s ruining the experience for you by pulling a daily double – trying to get some “sandwhich time” with the area around your ass …grabbing at it with his sweaty palms… Look at this asshole!…watch as he jerks around like…like some spastic COLON trying to get his moves down…barf…..Jeez is this loser SO pathethic he can’t even find another dweeb willing to play the OTHER half of the sandwich? What a fucking TOOL..

Uh oh…You’re getting tired and you’re sorta drunk, huh?  OK…you can admit it..REALLY DRUNK.. That’s when you feel it.  Something semi- hard but limp too, poking you right in the small of  your back… Fuck!  It’s that freak again, still trying……that’s OK girl…just shimmy away….there you go…now keep moving till you’re right about….THERE!   move a little bit to the left…OK now you can hide behind that fat chick dancing in one place, shaking like jello…and wearing  a OH MY GOD is that a Crop Top she’s squeezed into? But..come on, shit……You’ve never been SO happy to be behind a big behind in your life!  Admit it…No shithead…don’t move…just …stay….right….here…

Look at him.  He’s jerking around like a …jerk…looking everywhere for your “fixins”.   Ooops..better stay still…  Damn…..Is that hot BEER BREATH you feel on the back of your neck?    Crap…he’s right next to you…isn’t he?  Well, no where else to dance off to now.  Just slap his stupid hands away and make sure to keep a space between you..it’ll be fine…God, won’t they hurry it up and finish this God Damn song already?   Shouldn’t it be about over?    Stop bitching…didn’t you dream of this moment all freakin’ week?   Hey look at it this way – now you can say you got to dance – or in your case, STUMBLE – to your song…

OK now….Yep…feels like it’s winding down…Glance at your watch…hmmm…that’s strange – it says it’s 1 a.m. right NOW. HUH? It was 1 a.m. an hour ago wasn’t it?   Yeah, an hour ago if this was still FALL! Forget to set your clock back didn’t you? Whatever.  Just close your eyes…and wait for the song to wind down..come on DJ wind the song down….OK don’t obsess on it just keep…moving with the beat. that’s it…..and keep moving with the beat…and moving.with the beat..and moving with the beat…and ..move…and the beats picking up….WHAT?

OH GOD DAMN!  NO! This is the ONE HOUR extended “club” version of that song you couldn’t live without. …hahahaha…WHAT are the fucking odds of THAT happening tonite?  And you still have 35 minutes to go –  lucky girl.  See? The DJ didn’t forget you after all, did he?   He was just saving a special surprise for you till the end of the night.   Whatever…I swear if that asshole doesn’t stop touching me with his …Oh,  just suck it up girl!  It’s all good, or it could be worse anyway…. Just keep that space between you ….No. Don’t dance off again…not a good idea…why? Well you got a sitch here…If you move any farther left Subway will be at optimum level to access your “toppings” – and if you shimmy RIGHT you’ll be front and center target for that girl who’s just about to puke on everyone within a 5 miles radius. 

SO…

When you finally wake up in your own, THANK GOD, bed 15 hours later with that hangover and pieces of that weird dream you were having about a giant spastic salami in Wal*Mart pants trying to get you, you realize two things.  You’ve lost a serious 5 pounds.  And you never want to hear that fucked up song again…..

 Wasn’t that fun?

Mr. Hankey helps Carrot Top make his comeback!

Ya know, the more I get to know Mr. Hankey the more I realize what a selfless philanthropist he is. It seems like every time I open a newspaper, turn on the TV, or surf the ‘net – there he is again! Coming to the aid of all those “sub” celebrities who never quite made the cut in Hollywood.

 

Take Carrot Top for instance. Although I’m sure he put his heart and soul into it, his dramatic portrayal of the annoying spokesperson in last decade’s flop “1-800-CALL-ATT” didn’t really “connect” with the viewing public did it? In fact instead of helping his star rise to the longed-for heights of Lifetime Television glory, he only succeeded in irritating the shit out of us – that, and becoming the next contract hit to be ordered by bored Mob bosses with time on their hands (there’s only so many enemies to whack before your list grows short, waddya gonna do?)

So next Carrot Top decides to adopt a more “stream-lined” look – which didn’t turn out so well either, I’m afraid.

Poor Carrot Top, who apparently admired both Michael Jackson AND Gary Glitter, went a bit overboard when he decided to combine BOTH their looks into one. (Even though in this picture CT looks like he’s a bleached and thin Oprah accepting an Emmy, compare all 3 photos and you’ll get the gist of what I mean. Check it out:

So now we have surgery FAIL. Even Metro PCS doesn’t want Carrot Top as a spokesperson for their phone services – not even when he bulked up those muscles until they were “prison-yard” regulation size.

So now Carrot Top’s broke, weirder-looking than ever, and scares more children into staying indoors than “having their salad tossed” by a convict scares them into learning to read. Well, Carrot Top,  Guess the only way out is suicide or being a regular on Dancing with the Stars…..But Wait!

Along comes Mr. Hankey, who feels nothing but compassion when he learns of Carrot Top’s plight!

HIDEE HO CARROT TOP! I’VE GOT A PLAN….

And he did! Mr. Hankey met with and coached Carrot Top for 6 whole months. They went over his plans and dreams and all his hopes for the future. Then they went over Carrot Top’s actual reality for another 6 months, and Mr. Hankey made his suggestions. There was some more surgery involved and THIS time Mr. Hankey made sure the surgery was done right!

BEFORE AFTER

Although Carrot Top was reluctant to try it Mr. Hankey’s way, he’s sure glad he did now! Well, hell! I’ll shut up now so you can see for yourself:

 

Thanks to Mr. Hankey, Carrot Top is finally in pictures!

Yep that’s right! Carrot Top is the poster model on the 2010 Calendar for the National Work Training Center for Retarded persons! And there’s more!

Carrot Top also has a singing career – again, thanks to Mr. Hankey!

Doesn’t he look happy?

Congratulations Carrot Top!  See you in March and I’ll look for you this Christmas in Wal-Mart bargain bin!

Thanks Mr. Hankey, you rock!

 

 

HIDEE HOOOOOO! Boys and Girls….

Dressing up Meat Loaf for Halloween!

pum2

 

Happy Halloween Boys and Girls! I just wanted to drop this almost perfect goody into your virtual TrickorTreat bags before The Great ScumBag (Viacom) discovers people are enjoying LAUGHTER again, and puts an end to that nonsense, once and for all. If you haven’t seen South Park “Ghost Hunters”, you must see this clip – the whole thing is FUN NEEE but the SP crew really has the dramatics of the TV stars of The Ghost Hunters down to a science.  Click on it and it will take you to You Tube to watch it – cheesy I know, but it’s the only option for this clip right now….sorry. 

I know I’m not alone when I say this is the perfect season!  I have a  story to tell you that actually happened on Halloween in 1996. It’s not a figment of my purported photo shop talents, nor is it a product of my warped imagination.  It’s not so much scary, as it is payback.  It’s called –

“Why ALL  kids have stopped trick or treating on El Reno Drive in Chico, California”;

It was a dark and stormy Halloween night. The wind was howling, rain threatened, and it had turned a desolate pitch black suspiciously early that evening –  there was definitely the sound of spirits being summoned…in the form of tequila..What can i say? The whole fam damily was TOGETHER by force, and my husband (now my ex) and I, along with our teenage nephews, had chosen “doorbell duty” over “walking the babies in their costumes for candy”. We needed the booze, and not only that, but we’d had to sneak it in,  since Gospel Granny was visiting and she had an eye for SIN like God Almighty.   Why she had chosen Halloween to visit us was a mystery – unless she just wanted to ruin our fun.  

The “responsible” grown ups (my sisters in law and G G) finally vacated with the family’s rugrats in tow – cheerfully forging ahead on their own too much Hershey’s chocolate highway (pun? GOOD!).  And, since no one had bothered to mention we weren’t having DINNER that night before we agreed to playing gumball bouncers (it’s all for the KIDS you know) – we simply started eating A LOT more candy than we passed out – and of course, we chased each morsel down with another shot of Jose.  So 100 doorbells and 2 hours later, the 4 of us were feeling no pain. As the hour got late and the last of the trick or treaters straggled in, we decided to perform a grand finale in honor of Charlie Brown and The Great Pumpkin – Eddy and his  nephews Joe and Sean, all donned werewolf masks and planted themselves behind the bushes in the yard – and right before tiny hands reached up to ring the doorbell they all three JUMPED OUT yelling BWWWWAHHHH! in male stereo! The  terrified mini Michael Jackson’s, Hilary Clinton’s, and Wal*Mart clad Skeletors reacted in the only way small children knew how to react – by screaming in unison and peeing their Under Roos simultaneously. And as an extra Halloween treat, we got to witness the faces of the by-now FED UP, tired parents, whose attitudes towards us changed as it dawned on them that they had just spent the last 3 hours making sure little Susie or Bobby was dressed to the NINES! – and for what? For the near heart attack perpetuated by a FOUR DRUNK GROWN UPS WHO SHOULD KNOW BETTER THAN TO PLAY THE FOOL AND RUIN THE KIDDIES NIGHT OF GHOULISH FUN! Oh yeah, that, and the pathetic reward of ONE sorry piece of dried up candy corn tossed carelessly into the plastic Jack o lantern basket being  gripped tightly by their pissed off and pissey smelling roleplaying  tot…BOO! hoo…. 
kids

  

  

So as the night wears on,  our supplies of candy corn and tequila dwindles –  along with what’s left of our collective good mood.  We decide to pack it in and get the hell out of Dodge before we have a run in with OUR personal onslaught of tired parents, cranky kids and Gospel Grannies.  We start cleaning up the evidence or our Satanic shenanigans, and start shutting down the house.  And then…the doorbell rings…once…

Eddy yells out  “Sorry, candy gone, Happy Halloween! Time to go home!”  Nothing.  A doorbell dash? Hint taken? Oh well, silence anyway –  good, they left.  I look out the window – pitch black and dead as a grave yard.  We get back to business.  Two minutes later the door bell rings again.  Once.  Joe shouts out the window “the candy’s gone!  Go to the house next door”.  This time we hear the voices of boys –  BIG boys – ” Trick or treat mother fuckers! What’s it going to be?  TRICK…or treat?”   Sean opens the door.  Say hello to three 18-year-old-ish high school kids holding Pale Ales, decked out in Rite Aids finest brand of Depends knock off adult briefs, and wearing their grandma’s support stockings for masks.  Masks that do absolutely nothing to hide their zits.    The biggest loser – the one wearing the EXTRA roomy Depends, speaks up, “We’re not going nowhere – We know you got munchies and booze – we was watching you  from across the street”.  “We want some and our parents aren’t home, so we got all night to annoy the shit out of you”.    
tooold

 

Eddy was a person who used to openly pray for some poor idiot to car jack us on the road; just so he’d have an excuse to inflict severe bodily harm on someone.  He wasn’t someone to mess with.  Sneers at these morons…”Do you want your head or your balls ripped off first?  Your call..”  The middle spoiled brat –  Baby Huey whines, “We’re just KIDS. My dad’s a cop! We’re not hurting anyone. You lay one hand on us and we’ll have your ass for inflicting harm on a minor”. Eddy, who wasn’t society’s darling to begin with, says “ok you win, wait right here” and closes the door fast.  Always the supportive wife, I lovingly ask, “What are you AFRAID? Of 3 junvenile assholes in granny diapers?”  No, he reminds me, I’ve got WARRANTS! Remember? …Oh, yeah…He smiles, “but I’ve got an idea”.  He instructs Joe and Sean to fish around in the fridge and look for last weeks meatloaf.  Hopefully their Mom hadn’t thrown it out yet.  Is it there?  Yes?  GOOD!  And it’s starting to smell a little ripe – better yet!  We hear  pounding on the front door, and then the bell going off non-stop.  These wastes of space are really getting annoying.  Where the hell is Gospel Granny with the brood?  Probably lost somewhere. Shit! I  just remember I work at 5 am the next day and I’d be seeing a whole lot more of those adult diapers –  in less than pristine condition.  Hospital work was never pleasant and worse with a hangover.  Suddenly my patience with these snotnosed brats is GONE!   “Sean, have you cleaned out the cat box yet?” “Nooo..” Sean sulkily admits.  GREAT! Eddy smirks at me –  “Go get a handful of cat turds – mix the fresh ones up with the dried ones”… I’m starting to catch the groove – “Should we grab some of that fragrant “kitty litter” as a gourmet coating for the meatloaf?” “YEP!”  Joe’s already on it! 
meatloaf
 

 

I go to the door and announce to the three future recipients of prison lovin’ that we were gathering together some home made goodies – freshly cooked meatloaf in fact!, and some gourmet chocolates – we don’t want trouble, just please go away…”   The leader of the zits smiles through his Hanes control top pantyhose, “Now you’re talking!”  Telling them I’d be right back, I shut the door and help the family prepare the “special” meal.  Old meatloaf is loving rolled in a juicy brown gravy of water and Buggy the cat’s TURDS (fresh AND old) and then coated in their gourmet topping of “kitty Rocha” handcrafted by Buggy and her kittens.  For the “chocolates”, we repeat the rolling of POO receipe – without the meatloaf this time – and make them into tiny balls which we then wrap into empty Branch’s candy wrappers.  Liquid libations?  Almost forgot.  Fish the tequila bottle out of the garbage, wash it off,  and let Joe and Sean relieve their bladders into it.

Special meal for special guests planned, carried out, wrapped up and ready to go!  We open the door and hand them a triple-bagged sack of “goodies”.  “Remember to heat that meatloaf up in the oven at 450 for about 20 minutes.  Oh, and the candy tastes best if you refrigerate it first.  Oh yeah, one more thing.  We want  you boys to have the rest of our tequila!  Hope you don’t mind, it’s been sitting out so it’s a bit warm!  But it’s tequila!  It might be a tad strong…

The whiny brats eyes light up and they snag the sack and the bottle!  “Thanks old folks!” the cop’s son chortles as they saunter away into the night.  We can hear bits and pieces of their conversation in the distance –   “I can’t believe that worked AGAIN!.  We should do this every Halloween”.  I’m hungry and that meatloaf’s smellin’ good!  Pass me that bottle….
catturds
Money spent on tequila for four – $28.  Out of pocket for ALL that halloween candy we ate – Nothing, we stole it from the kids. Total time spent dealing with toddlers, bitchy parents, know it all tough guy zit boys, nursing a massive hangover and trying not to gag on the smell of old butts the next day at work – It seemed like 5 years but it was probably only 48 hours if that. Time it takes for a story like this to lose it’s savor – Still waiting…  

Oh by the way, those kids? We never heard anything about that incident, or heard from them –  ever again.  (But I think we may have been naive to place so much confidence in our cooking abilities…). 

Happy Halloween!!

 

STOOPID INFOMMERCIALS THAT MAKE ME SICK…

This is a post from when I very first started blogging… I saw this infomerical again last night, and it reminded me of why I don’t watch TV that late anymore LOL

 

INFOMMERCIALS THAT ARE TOO STUPID TO FATHOM YET THERE’S A MARKET!!??…

ALL YOU NEED TO KNOW IS:  

 

 

THIS……….

PLUS THIS……………..

PLUS EVEN THIS……

WILL NEVER, EVER, EVER, EVER, EVER…..

EQUAL THIS…….

http://www.humorbloggers.com/banners.html

I was falling asleep after a glass of wine (ok – passing out after a bottle as is my evening custom) the other nite to the mindless drivel on TV; why I had it on that late (or early if you want to split hairs – 4:30 am OK????), was anyone’s guess. I had long ago given up hope of being able to find that late, anything spiritually soothing, like South Park, to help rock me to sleep in my drunken stooper. But hearing the start of something hilariously idiotic that wasn’t a spoof but should’ve been, caused me to sit up straight in a stone cold sober moment of clarity! (NO, it was’nt “I should give up drinking”, sorry)

It was the infommercial for the NEW Kymaro BodyShaper and it was claiming that all a fat woman had to do was put this on under her clothes, put said clothes back on, VOILA! instantly up to 4 INCHES of ugly fat bulges and rolls were magically smoothed away.

It was then, while hearing the claim, that I finally realized my purpose for this day/nite. I was MEANT to view it, Judge IT! and publish my insulting comments and one-sided personal views of the udder (yes pun) stoopidity, of not only the purveyors of this crap, but also the rather naive, large consumers, happily answering interview questions about their weight and body image, while being pushed and yanked until they were finally tightly trussed up into their very own personal walking body bags (toe tag NOT included).

Now, I caught on right away that the KyJOKEO Body Shaper was just a Super Long and Extra Stretchy version of the old-fashioned girdle that women had been donning since the 1940’s. Almost a badge of honor, the girdle marked a woman’s transition from firm-muscled, smooth fleshed cheerful girlhood, which always starts out with such hope! into the often decades-long final agonizing role before her death, the one called Lucky Gal! – Everything she never wanted for the rest of her days, plus absolutely free of charge – Proper husband I can’t stand, six ungrateful brats I never wanted, it’s OVER for me, shoulda screwed that fine James Dean lookalike my senior year, gonna drink whiskey starting at 10 am, gonna eat, and eat and eat and drink, gonna sit and watch TV whenever the assholes are out of the house, till its just me, my food and my fat from now on, and oh yeah, my girdle, cause, Damn, sometimes I’m going to have to stuff it in and attend those stupid family gatherings.

Now then, the part of the GyroeatMORO infommercial that made me sit up and take notice is when one light-hearted heavy gal stated gleefully that her husband just could’nt STOP taking second looks at her when she was in her new bodyshaper!! Now, you can pull the wool over the eyes of some guys about some things. “Like honey, the cat must have eaten the tv remote! I swear, have you seen it’s fangs lately? and the amount of food it’s been sneaking from the dog’s bowl? The dog is scared.. and thin! ” ..Ok, maybe hubby could buy that. But do you think for one moment that when it comes to his 400 lb wifey, who that very day had to slide with difficulty through doorways in three public places they visited, that his thoughts were of newfound lust for his suddenly slender and light-as-air goddess? The same one who had only been getting fatter since god damn Crispy Kreme opened up across the street last year?

Or more to the point, do you think his thoughts might be anchoring on where he would be standing in ratio to the position of his queen, when her KyaHOLDNOMORO Body Shaper body binding finally split open after getting tighter and tighter during a few more donut eatoramas. Those previously tightly compressed rolls and bulges suddenly springing forth at the speed of light, making wet squishy noises like an exploding vat of rotten pudding, decimating everything and everyone in it’s path, the G forces causing the weight of the subject to double in density and become a deadly unnatural disaster.

Yeah, i think that’s hitting the proverbial nail on the head…I have found that when someone keeps glancing at you and then away repeatedly they are usually pondering a confusing conundrum involving you, and sex surprisingly isn’t in the equation for once. My ex-husband did that quite often before we split.

The solution I’ve come up with is very simple in it’s design and I’ve practiced it myself most of my life…

Put the donuts, cake, pizza, lasagne, cookies, chips, small asian man, whatever down, and back away slowly….

YOUBEDISSED-CLAIMER: AS USUSAL AFTER I POST SOMETHING THAT TOTALLY MAKES ME LAUGH I REALIZE LATER THAT IT IS PROBABLY GOING TO BE CONSIDERED HIGHLY INSULTING TO SOME READERS. HOWEVER, BECAUSE OF MY NEED AND LOVE TO LAUGH AT EVERYTHING AND ANYTHING MORE THAN EVEN BREATHING, AND THE FACT THAT I HAVE LOTS OF PERSONAL STUPID GERBIL THINGS I’VE DONE AND TURNED INTO MATERIAL THAT I SPEW FORTH GLADLY ON MYSELF, I HAVE NO FEELINGS OF REMORSE IN IGNORING THE IDIOTIC POLITICALLY CORRECT DRIVEL FORCED UPON ME BY A SOCIETY THAT WANTS TO MAKE SURE THAT NO ONE EVER CRACKS A SMILE AGAIN.

BESIDES, IF YOU WERE ONE OF THOSE LADIES THAT ACTUALLY CONSENTED TO BE IN THAT HUMILIATION OF AN INFOMMERCIAL AND AGREED TO PUBLICLY WEAR ONE OF THOSE GARMENTS ON TV, THEN YOU HAVE TO KNOW HOW RIDICULOUS IT LOOKED AND HOW FUNNY IT IS FOR SOMEONE LIKE ME TO BAG ON IT.