Archive for January 30th, 2009
OK so I wrote a story. You can say I was inspired by McNally’s story Black Coffee in terms of how I decided to release it.
Now, I’m not retarded, I know he didn’t invent audio books. But I decided that people are retards (not you, don’t be silly not you) and prefer to listen to things as opposed to reading them.
So, I am going to read you a story. You can read along as well. Click the link to play the file or right click and “save as” to download. The quality is better if you download it just saying.
The song at the end is “I’m Designer” by Queens of The Stone Age.
Morbidly Obese
I’m Designer – Queens of the Stone Age
Morbidly Obese
I’m fat. No, seriously, I’m fat. Not in that girly way, where every girl thinks she is fat. I am a very big girl and this isn’t a problem for me. No, seriously, it’s not. Every fat girl says that she is OK with her body, but they are all lying. They don’t want to be judged by “skinny bitches,” and boys.
There are some things that are good about being fat and there are some things bad about being fat.
Cons:
Finding proper seating: It is difficult to fit into those tiny desk-chair combos at school. You have to buy two tickets on airplanes. It’s impossible to fit into those chairs at the movie theater when they have cupholder arm rests.
Clothing: Most fatties have a problem with this, but I don’t really care about fashion. I like to get air “down there” so muumuus will suffice.
Health: You might die a little sooner. But with all the advances in science when push comes to shove surgery is always an option. And besides people live way too long now anyway. I don’t need to live to be 70 while shitting myself in a diaper. I’ll check out at 50 and be fine.
Other People: Other people like to tease you and make you feel bad. But all you have to do is say, “Whatever Bernard are you shitting me? I know I have like 20 jelly rolls, but you will never have sexual intercourse with a women.” Bam, you’ve zinged them back.
Showering is also quite difficult, but I don’t mind the hose outback.
The pros are a little more hard to explain. But I will just come right out and say that being fat isn’t for everyone.
I’ll share a little anecdote with you. When I was still a little child (I’m 16 ½ now) I must have been around 8 years old, I was super skinny. This is how most fatties’ stories start out.
I was so small that I would hide in the cupboards when my twin brother, Theo and I would play hide-and-seek. People used to pick on us all the time for being so tiny. You know how little kids can be, they pick on anyone who is different. They would call us the “Wonder Twin Midgets,” and “The Oompa Loompa Twins.” It all seems dumb now, but it was really sad back then.
There was this one boy Brody that I really liked. On Valentine’s Day I gave him a card, mine said “You are sweet as sugar. Be my cupcake, this Valentine’s Day.” His said, “You are a dorf. Go and die.” He meant to say “dwarf” but it was third grade, so whatever. Well, I was really sad so I ran into the girl’s bathroom and cried. When my brother found out during recess he confronted Brody the Meanie, about the whole situation.
Theo said, “Stop calling Teresa and me midgets, you ugly red headed step-child.” Then Brody said that he would stop if he beat him at a race to the top of the monkey bars.
They were racing up, what seems really high when you’re like, 8, and when they were almost at the top, Theo slipped. His shoelaces were untied, and he tripped over himself and Brody grabbed his hand and we thought he was saved for half a second, but no one at 8 is strong, even when trying to hold someone as small as me and Theo used to be.
Theo’s shoes fell off and he hit the ground. Those darn rubber PlaySafe Mats didn’t break the fall.
He broke his back.
We cried for almost a year. The only happy moments in between were covered in chocolate syrup.
He couldn’t feel his legs but he could work his arms and fighting over the crust of the pie, fork in hand, was like fighting over the TV Remote or who got to use the computer or the cool robot dog toy that would bark in a robot voice and roll over it’s body while it’s head stayed in place like in the Exorcism movie sort of.
We could roll Theo into the kitchen and he could mix the batter and I could crush the almonds. And we could eat the brownies.
But I had legs and he didn’t, so when the doctors said he was overweight at 12, it was just another bad thing.
He said, “No one will know we are twins anymore, Teresa. That is like if Salt turned into Ketchup, then it wouldn’t be Salt and Pepper anymore, it would be, Ketchup and Pepper and that just doesn’t make any sense.”
Then he didn’t want to bake anymore, he didn’t want to eat anymore, just nasty carrots and things. We weren’t twins anymore and we weren’t friends.
I felt like I was the Ketchup.
But then, it was like I was missing the most logical thing ever. I could just get big like him and then we could be Twins again. Mother would give us fruit salad and I would put whip cream and chocolate syrup and sprinkles on it, drool!
When my clothes stopped fitting I had to get new ones, so that was like a bonus!
One day Theo said, now I was only a chubby bunny at this point, he said: “What are you doing sister, just because I am a large boy doesn’t mean you have to be a large girl. Eat your vegetables, please.”
And to this I said, “We are twins, not regular siblings, bro. If you want us to continue to be twinsies then we must get bigger together, because we certainly will not get smaller in unison.”
We ate for a whole year, the only moments in between were burps and bodily functions that I care not to discuss, but we were Twins again.
Pro.
And whenever people would say, “Oh look at the lard twins!” I would say, “Whatever, the only thing better than food is sexual intercourse and you obviously will never have that, you, poophead!”
Then Theo would look up at me from his wheelchair and laugh then we would share a tub of rocky road ice cream, chilly fries, three bacon cheeseburgers and apple pie.
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