Reasons NOT to join Match.com if you’re a woman

Meet Brad:

Match.com profile #1:

“Hi, I’m Brad. I’m a successful executive in the gaming industry.  Not only do I DESIGN the games for virtual online playing, I also market them all over the world!  I am into my health, I’m hygienic, and I believe in the sanctity of the body. I am looking for a woman who is sure of herself, believes in her own inner beauty, has a plan for the future, and is looking for a one on one relationship with a quality human being.  I love dogs, children and living life in general.  If this is you, I want to meet you as soon as possible!  All beautiful women of every size and shape are welcome to reply – I love them all!”

MISmatch.com #1 profile reality:

“My name really is Brad, I’m 26, and I live in my Grandmother’s basement.  I am into playstation 3 games, and I play them ALL day, while I’m telling that old bitch I’m online looking for a pizza delivery job.  I only WISH I had the talent to design the new arrivals, like Call of Duty, but SHIT! I can’t even spell my last name!  In fact, I don’t really even know what my last  name is. My Grandma justs keeps referring to my father as that “transvestite bastard”, and tells me…Carla, SHUT UP and quit asking questions!.  Anyway, I’m healthy enough to sack away a dozen donuts every morning and I even remember to take a shower once in awhile.  I am looking for a woman – ANY WOMAN – to get with me so we can “go steady”  I don’t have much experience in the intimacy department- except for that time with my grandmother’s poodle Coco, but then he ran away. (Kids don’t like for some reason, but I can’t put my finger on it!) Please, ANYONE! Call me! as you can see I LOVE breasts and have my own! So, even if yours aren’t so great, we can kill time playing with mine!  Hope to hear from you soon!

People watching in traffic cheers me UP!

 

  

THINGS THAT MAKE YOU

GO….

 

things

 

 

Wednesday night after work and I’m freakin’ TIRED.

I logged about 5 MILES on my feet traipsing from department to department in a 5 story VA Hospital.  My job, along with 3 other women on conflicting menstrual cycles, involves measuring rooms with a groovy little laser, gathering data about every nook and cranny in every room, and apparently yesterday I had the added job duty of fending off the sexual advances of horny old VA coots smoking while wearing their O2 tanks as they waited for the commuter bus back to whatever Militia camp they were residing in this month.  (I knew wearing my underwear outside my jeans with boots was a BAD idea – THANKS FOR THE FASHION ADVICE T.F.U.!!) 

Thank God i didn't wear the Granny panties...

Thank God i didn't wear the Granny panties...

  

To top it all off, Todd was an hour in picking me up due to the heavy traffic – so I had to cool my heels, so to speak in an empty and dirty engineering department parking lot, pretending to be on the phone whenever someone trudged by who looked like they wanted to chitchat.  I was in NO MOOD for people.

All that changed on the drive home.  Todd and I went grocery shopping at a local SAVE MART (which i vowed to never enter again based on my new “anti fat-bitchy-cashier” policy, but we were hungry.  $125 later (they should change their name to SPEND MAX by the way) we were on our way home when the following  2 characters bounced into view:

gps

 

  

  

 No, not the fat Wal*Mart poster-model for stretch pants pushing the cart with her mutated and saggy second hand TFU knock-offs – but the classssssssy mama behind her.  The one walking her kid on a LEASH. (Sorry – cuz i haven’t learned to photoshop photo stilled action figures onto street scenery yet, you’ll have to use your imagination when I say she was walking down a skanky street with junior in the lead – pun GOOD – jumping and leaping like a bullfrog on meth – which he might have been since they start young around here.)  Seeing a spectacle like that is what made me realize that I was almost ….home.  I sighed ..not with relief but with resignation.  Anyway, back to the toddler-walker. 

I shook my head in disbelief how anyone could lead an obviously innocent ADD-riddled CHILD around on a leash but I laughed at them anyway – compassionate soul that I am.  I was waiting for Mom to take Junior to the nearest fire hydrant to relieve himself, and was thinking about asking Mom if she was into selling any of Juniors adderall,  when a small rundown car almost knocked us out of our lane as it went screeching out of the back parking lot of SAVE MART.  I looked over at the driver to give him the universal finger wave, but stopped mid-bird as I realized i couldn’t see past all the undulating bags of  Lays Potato chips that were partially obscuring the driver’s face. Apparently the old Lay’s Potato commercials left something out – Although some people can’t “eat just ONE”,  there are some people who can’t eat just ONE or FIVE BAGS.  :

  

Apparently no one can eat just one....BAG...
This is my photo-shop best I could provide for a visual since I didn’t have a camera at the time.  DAMN!

The driver was a woman.   A woman SO BIG  she was slammed up against her car window –  fat arms pumping and sweating as they worked overtime to cram chips down her throat like she had 5 minutes to eat before the end of the world.  She continued to chow down chips like an crazy, possessed lawnmower – cutting off traffic as she switched lanes and changed empty  Lay’s bags for new ones, in her huge rush to where? Home? To a husband who would be mad if he caught her cheating on her diet? By the ferocious look of a rabid dog coloring her face as she downed poor innocent spuds (who didn’t deserve to go out that way),  I would guess that if she WAS married her husband wouldn’t be up to “telling” this mama to do anything. 

So Todd and I went over what we each thought her story could be.  Todd came up with a sure  Pulitzer Prize novel that began “Once upon  a ti….. O My God she’s fucking HUGE!” 

Heres mine.  I called it Driving Miss Lazy:  Once upon a time, there was a large lazy woman who loved nothing except eating food. At home, at the doctors, at funerals – and especially while she was in her car. She sells her welfare stamps half price to crack dealers for the cash to eat fast food at least 6 times a day and is so obsessed with food that “exercise” is now a word she doesn’t recognize.

One day she reasons to herself that since she really doesn’t care to move around at all – except to go to where food is-  she’d just get her insurance to pay for one of those cool JAZZY scooters – Just like her heros drive around in on those late night infomercials.  Then she could live out her dream of doing nothing but rolling around all day in style – to wherever there was food for the taking.   Like her ass,  she had BIG dreams.   She planned to parade “jazzy-classy” to the neighborhood grocery stores, cut off cars in the fast food drive thrus, run over old lady’s at farmers markets who were looking at the cake she had her eyes on.  She even planned to bump the bums out of line at The Jesus Center, and invade their dumpsters for half eaten but still tasty donuts.

But THEY shot her dream DOWN!  Those stupid bitches at Med I CAL denied her claim for a jazzy because they said  she didn’t meet the criteria of “handicapped”.  They told her that laziness wasn’t a chronic disease.  Well!  If those assholes were going to deny her her right to a  Jazzy, why she’d just CREATE one instead, and show those fools a thing or two about Fatass Trailer Sass!

 So for 3 months she does nothing but eat, drive, eat, drive, drive, eat, drive eat – oh and of course she rolls to the mailbox for her welfare check on the first of every month an even manages to bring in some extra cash by sneak attacking unsuspecting passers-by in deserted alleys by night.  Throwing her massive body down on them as they amble by, she steals their wallets for the cash after they are knocked out cold by her gelatinous mass of flesh. (A couple of them die, but its a worthy sacrifice for her DREAM!).  She continues to eat, drive, mug, drive, mug an eat.  She takes no showers, has no fresh clothes.  She poops and pees in the considerable collection of empty Almond Rocha cans and pringles chip containers that litter her car floor –  then donates the filled cans to food drives for the poor. 

Finally another month goes by and she’s nearly TOO fat to leave her tiny pathetic car.  She vows her next step will be to park this rolling foodmobile in the Save Mart parking lot the following  Monday.  Once there, she will eat more food, making an even BIGGER spectacle of herself, and demand the local news crews be notified of her plight.  She will show those Med I Cal ASSHOLES who they’re messing with and make them PAY for having denied her the unalienable right to be fat and lazy in America!

She will eat, yell, piss and poop.  And grow and grow and grow until MED I CAL is publicly shamed into paying for her new Jazzy.  If they refuse she makes a vow to  double down the goodies at an even faster rate of speed, until she expands to a size so big she explodes everywhere and on everyone in the Save Mart parking lot.  Going out with a bang for her cause…so to speak.  

After a dramatic pause,  I ask Todd what he thinks of my story.  He looks at me and doesn’t hesitate as he rips the two vanilla cream- filled Zingers I just unwrapped, out of my hands and pitches  them out the car window.  (Its ok, i have a box hidden)

Do you think I should pitch this idea to Lifetime television?

I wonder if Cosby would do a commercial like this?

cosby1

Remember the nostalgic celebrity-based commercials of yester-year? Like good old Bill Cosby pushing that wholesome childhood snack – jello pudding? I miss Bill and his 30 second diatribes beseeching me to eat a healthy yet tasty alternative to SweetTarts.

Someone should call Bill and entice him back to TV Commercial Land, yet bump it up a notch so that what he’s peddling appeals to persons of ALL tastes – no matter how eclectic they may be.

 

 

I’ve got an idea! But I need your opinion.  Do you think Bill would ever do a commercial like this?

 

 

 

cup

 
Then again, maybe he wouldn’t understand where I was going with it…
cosby2

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.