Buffing up for my audience

I am fat. I know this. My pants are really good at reminding me of this. So is that bitch in the mirror. I'm gonna cut her, one day.

A couple of months back, I joined a gym. Go me! Being proactive about getting down to a reasonable weight! Yay! So as I learned my way around the gym, I began to notice some interesting quirks. Not quirks like, the water tastes bad, or the treadmills are always full of running dudes. I'm talking crazy stupid stuff that happens all the time.

When you get to the gym, you have to park your car. Which you think is normal, but it's not. You would think it was a mall parking lot 2 days before Christmas. People will creep along behind you as you walk to your car. They will turn around and speed back down the aisle you are on, just to get a spot close to the door. Hi, people, this is a GYM. You came here to exercise, so why not walk an extra 20 feet to and from your car?! Seriously! No wonder you are so GD fat!!!

Racket ball?! Go in a room and bounce balls off the wall where the whole gym cam watch you? Show off. My mom used to yell at me to cut that shit out. Grownups suck ass.

Everytime I go upstairs, I feel like people are watching me. This is because said stairs are in the very middle of the gym, where almost everybody (except the dicks playing racket ball at 4pm) can watch your fat ass struggle up those stairs. Then, you have to choice of watching the dude in joggings shorts that are so baggy you fear their failure, or being watched by the 50something in camp counselor shorts. It's all watch or be watched.

As always, there is always a gaggle of trainers running around, and one of them is waaaay more enthusiastic than all the others.

Of course, no gym experience is complete without a locker room. This is not the ugly green lockers and mildewed tile from high school. These are the nicest fucking lockers I have ever seen. They are the best looking thing in the whole locker room. It is full of naked ladies, all of whom are older Asian ladies, with saggy boobs and even saggier panties.
Also, never get into the hot tub by yourself, and never ever when there is a man twice your age stewing in there already. Ewwwwww.

Oh, that's awesome! My phone added extra w's to my Ewwwwww.

Apart from some people who don't know about the new miracle product that is deodorant ignoring the unspoken "leave a treadmill between you and your neighbor" rule, I kinda like the gym.

Especially when I go with Bob, because that is when I spot Really Hot Guy.

OMG the traffic!!!

I live in a suburb of Atlanta. I sometimes have places to go in the morning, or maybe early evening. I don't like having to do these things, because it means that I have to sit in traffic. This is what it looks like:




Ack!! This has got to be the worst traffic in the whole world. I can leave my house at 8:30 am and it takes me over an hour to go 30 miles! Over an hour!!! And I'm not even riding a camel!!!

I have tried taking back roads, and they shave off 5-10 minutes. What you make up for in movement, you get held up by red lights. That, and all the other people who also tried back roads. Also, there is inevitably a school along your route that is having a function. Or a church. Or both.

This translates roughly into: I spend a lot of time in my car. I spend a lot of time singing off key and memorizing songs. I even tried to learn russian once. That dent go so well.

I don't know why, but ever since I got my first car, I have been driving every freaking where!!! I've almost always worked too far to walk or bus, and in Atlanta anybody will tell you that takes hours.

I figured out that I would have to leave my old job at 5:40 in order to catch a bus that would take me to a station to get another bus, and then ride it down to the Marta train station, then ride downtown so I could get on another branch, and from there get on the last bus to a bus station 8 miles from my house, and then ride on yet another bus and I would get home around 10. Marta is only "smarta" if you live ITP and near the train.

So bravely, I continue to fight the traffic. I let people over, I don't cut people off. I try to make sure that I am not an asshole to anybody. I didn't rear end the guy who decided to come to a complete stop on the highway in front of me. I just wish some drivers would return the favor. Or at least get off the road.

Passion Parties. Better than Pampered Chef. WAY better than Tupperware.

For over 50 years, the party plan marketing scheme has been targeting lonely ladies in their late 20's to early 50's. First, it used a really neat new way to store food in your refridgerator without using up a plate, a bowl, and stinking up your fridge. This sweet new trick was called Tupperware, and every lady on the block WANTED IT.

Sweet little housewives would spend all day in the kitchen making finger foods, clean their house and send the kids out to kill Daddy when he got home. That game was great, because it took them hours to bury the body. Wifey would open a bottle of wine, and her friends would start to show up. Finally, they lady with the tupperware was here! I can use my hostess gift to store the leftovers! Wifey thinks excitedly. The ladies spend hours oohing and aahing over the plastic storage containers that you have to burp. Yay! it's better than a baby, because I don't have to change it's diaper!

Fast forward to present day. Wifey comes home from her job, pops open the plastic on the party platters that she bought from Publix. She secretly hopes that her friends make pigs of themselves, because she is running low on Gladware. The kids are at friends' houses for the night. The husband is out playing poker with the boys, and will come home reeking of Gin and cigars. Ooh boy, whiskey dick. So much for getting laid. Oh! I can use my hostess gift to remedy that situation!!! Do I have batteries?

The doorbell rings, and it is the lady of the evening, the most awesome woman in the world. It's the Passion Party lady. She carts in 3 large plastic boxes full of "toys" for you and your friends to giggle over. Your friends stumble in one by one. The Party Lady gives you all clipboards with a piece of blank paper on each. She tells you to put it on top of your head, now, you have 30 seconds to draw a penis! The best Penis wins a prize! (Just an FYI, this actually happened to me at one of these parties, and I TOTALLY won!)

Some of the guests get to try out different creams. Always interesting to watch your friends squirm! The Party Lady came up with a neat new game, where you pass a double ended toy around between your knees! The hostess even gets to try on a strap on!


After we all settle down and feel more comfortable with a room full of strangers, we start passing around the things that vibrate. From rabbits to dolphins, the people who come up with these toys think that either:
A: women really like animals and things that have animals on them,
-or-
B: women are into bestiality
Because every one of these things has got pearls inside and a top that rotates and a vibrating animal form near the base. The one with the butterfly was really cool, I almost bought one.

Then all the women go into a room and close the door, and all kinda of secret kinky things happen.

Just kidding, she takes your check and in about a week you get your stuff. She tells you that you have a great personality and gives you a brochure telling you all about working for Passion Party, and then you walk out and tap the next sucker.

I don't know exactly how we went from Tupperware to Sex Toys, but I am SOOOO not complaining. If you really want to make things interesting, invite a couple of your raunchiest friends, we will spice things up for you. I made the party lady blush, and she was the one who kept whipping out the bigger and better toys!

So thank you, inventor of the Tupperware party, for we have bastardized your idea and made it more awesome than you could ever have imagined.

I hate smart people....

Dear Smart People,

Why do you guys have to be dicks? Especially when it comes to the internet. I mean, if there wasn't some jerk out there who wanted to have his character grinding xp while he was at work, there wouldn't be things like programs that automatically do stuff. Which means that there would be no reason for people to try to stop them from doing that. Which means that if I want to post a link on Facebook, I never ever have to type in 2 words that are totally unrelated to each other.Ok, maybe not always.

I hate you Smart People, who had to go and cause things like "Capcha" to be made. Because that is the stupidest thing in the world, and sucks for people who are dyslexic. I really hate you, because I am always foiled by things like this, at least twice, before I can accomplish what I set out to do. The ones that use numbers are the worst though, because I can't tell if that fourth number is a 4 or a 9. If I type in 4, then it will most certainly be a 9. Even though it looks like a 4.

Please stop being lazy, just because you have the brain power to do things us normal people can't, doesn't mean you should.

With great power comes great responsibility.

Your very first Public Service Announcement!

Hi Everybody!

(Hi Dr. Nick!)

This is my shiny new blog! It is meant to entertain you. It will be stupid. It will be lewd. It will make no sense whatesoever.

Are you ready?


Oh no! You are being attacked by a bunny! ACK! Run Away!