I'd like to dedicate this little piece of rabid, vehement diatribe to all of you overly skinny people out there in the world who seem to feel a sense of entitlement regarding your body condition.
For the rest of you, let's put it this way. Back a decade ago when I worked for T-Mobile a close friend and I used to make good use of the play dough they'd put out on the desks to keep our hands busy during meetings by creating a stupid button that we'd take turns slapping when the speaker was being a dipshit. Immature and disruptive? Highly, but hey that's how we rolled. So in that vein I would encourage you all to steal some play dough from the kids, form a big ol' pseudo-Staples-easy-button, and gouge the letters NSFW in the top of it.
Now slap the shit outta that bastard cause this post is DEFINITIVELY not suitable for mature adult consumption, let alone work!
Go ahead, I'll wait...
Don't mind me.
Dammit isn't anyone gonna play along?
Fine, your funeral.
First of all I'd like to forward a great big shiny heaping helping of GO FUCK YOURSELF to all the entitled skinny people out there who feel you are better than someone else due to your body fat percentage. Go anally dry fuck yourself with the stick of your choice, pull it out lovingly, and continue doing strip-aerobics on it until you no longer notice the smell you flaming douche nozzles.
Look, I get the idea of taking care of yourself and I'm all for it. Hell, I'm in the gym three hours a day three days a week pursuing my goals as a powerlifter. I'm stronger now than I've ever been in my life. If you're doing what you do to take care of your body and reach your goals for personal well-being and what not, by all means go forward with my blessings boo-boo.
However, if you find some sense of "better-than-thou" over the fact you've only eating yogurt today to maintain your waistline, you're a shit head. Unless you're Jeffrey Donovan (Michael Weston off of Burn Notice), in which case you're a badass and you're excused sir. I am sick to ass raping hell of these obnoxious ass skinny shits who feel that they are somehow more worthy to suck down God's good oxygen because they fit into skinny jeans. First of all cock nugget, I've got news for you: the only guys that can fit skinny jeans are anorexic little fucks with no substantial dick to speak of so please sit the fuck down and hire a wardrobe consultant. Bitch.
You may be wondering why I'm a little tender over this subject. After all I could really give a pile of duck shit what others think of me in the real world. I'm riled up over this because I've officially had my fill of looks and off hand comments. To give you an example, I went into the convenient store near my job during lunch today to pick up some Monster Muscle....
STOP... QUICK FREE ADVERTISING PAUSE FOR THE LIQUID AWESOMENESS IN A CAN THAT IS MONSTER MUSCLE CHOCOLATE. IF YOU CONSUME PROTEIN FOR ANYTHING OTHER THAN SEXUAL ACTIVITIES THAT USUALLY ONLY HAPPEN ON SOMEONE'S BIRTHDAY, YOU OWE IT TO YOURSELF TO TRY THIS STUFF AS SOON AS YOU FINISH READING THIS COLUMN!
SORRY I DRINK SO MUCH OF THIS STUFF I FIGURED I MIGHT AS WELL PIMP FOR IT.
Moving on... so I went into the convenient store to purchase said heaven in a can and stood in line behind some mid-twenties little princess who mentioned to her boyfriend that if he didn't stop eating all the junk food he was going to get fat like the guy behind them. Meaning me. Little dude, all five-five buck thirty of him, turns to face me and I give him my best "I'm going to crush you, drag your girl out of here by her hair and flip your smug little Smart 4-2 over on her head" look. He made her put her bottle of water on the floor and leave post haste. I felt justice had been served.
Hey, people are shitheads. I know this. I'm just as much one on a random basis as everyone else is. But what just kills me is that while I may still weigh three bills and have some tummy, the little twat monkey had no right to just out and out assume I'm some Twinkie chowing pig who walks around with my own personal gravy boat while she stands there conveniently and completely engulfed in my shadow. It's been a long time since I've wished a really sloppy, gooey yeast infection on anyone but I swear I hope that little turd wakes up one fine morning soon with her panties full of biscuit dough! And people wonder why I hate smurfs...
The fact is that people who choose to carry some extra are not uncommon in the gym. The majority are powerlifters. Not of all us have come to embrace the fact that you can be strong as shit and lean at the same time (yes Ben, we know it can be done we just don't have your will power). I really wonder sometimes if some of these starved cardio-wonders have ever taken the time to realize that all that running and calorie-control-taken-to-extremes is actually damaging their bodies far worse than anything I'm doing picking up twice my body weight and smiling at their silly asses?
So am I really just sad to be a little chubby and had my tenders hurt by some mean little thing only to run home and profanely spew all over my blog? Well maybe but that's sort of my thing. Actually I'm pretty comfortable with what I'm hauling around until it comes to those god forsaken pieces of diabolical machination called pullups, then I'm a fat shit who needs to put down the donuts! In all seriousness though, it's not the comments that piss me off, it's the sense that some of these ass-clowns run around with that they're skinny and are therefore automatically better than all others.
And here's an object lesson to all those pretty little bastards out there who are so proud of their abs. Abs aren't sexy brother. They may help get you to the bedroom once, but having the strength to pick your woman up and carry in there yourself will get you invited back!
Now if you'll pardon me I need to go ingest a protein shake, some bacon, and a couple of Tastee Cakes with Hershey's syrup before bed. Oh yeah and skinny bitch, while you're home trying to cure that baking bread smell coming from your fuck hole you're dealing with (if my wish came true), I'll be sleeping happily next to my wife who loves me just the oversized furry beastly sasquatch/grizzly bear/silverback gorrilla hybrid way I am. So tell your vibrator goodnight for me you deeply unhappy and clueless piece of fake blonde arm candy. Hopefully you'll still feel pretty next week after he's used you for Spider Man target practice and is therefore now done with your simple ass and dumps you for your sister. Or your dad, take your pick.
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