I got on the elevator today and just as the door was closing a huge woman decided to jam her way in with such urgency it was as if taking the stairs would've been the only option left after those doors closed. God she was huge. And so out of breath. But of course this did not stop her from opening her huge mouth to speak with a co-worker. Here's how the conversation went.
FATTY McFATFAT: Oh my God, I'm so tired.
CO-WORKER: Hi Sheila.
Then Fatty bumps someone "accidentally" with her bag.
FATTY McFATFAT: I'm sorry. It's this damn gym bag. It's so big.
CO-WORKER- (trying so hard not to seem surprised that Fatso went to the gym) How was the gym?
FATTY McFATFAT: Not bad. It's just that when I leave, even after I shower, I'm still dripping wet with sweat.
At this point, the entire elevator did a collective "ewwww" in their minds. I know it. Okay, well, I did. Anyway, the point is this great, big fat person (a nod to Silence of the Lambs there) just couldn't wait to talk about going to the gym. And this was January 5th. I guarantee she'd only been going for 5 days at the most, after she made her tearful New Year's resolution to lose weight yet again. And its more likely that she'd only gone once or twice since the beginning of the new year. But oh she had to let the whole elevator know about her ordeals in the gym. You know, make it sound like it was a regular activity for her. But doesn't she know that because of her comically sized body that no one believes her? Just go to the gym and shut the fuck up, lady. You're gross and the less we know about you the better. If you do insist on letting everyone in an elevator know about your life at least be honest about it. Something like, "I just went to the gym where I walked on a treadmill at the slowest possible pace for thirteen minutes while holding on to the rails. Now I'm gonna go upstairs and eat six 300 calorie nutrition bars because I've fooled myself into thinking they are the kind of fuel my mbody needs after a workout but the truth is I just like the chocolate cookie crunch. Then I'm gonna go home and curl up on the couch , watch Sex and the City and swallow an entire turkey."
Now listen, I know it seems as though I'm coming off very cruel here but believe me I'm not, because I'm a fat fuck too and fat on fat crime isn't a crime at all.
This was NOT the woman in the elevator, by the way, but this is the kind of honesty I expect from her. This fat chick rules. Great fucking shirt. Totally respect her. I guarantee she doesn't complain about going to the gym.
Not too willing to fuck for cake.
4 comments:
Will fuck for cake! Genius! Mega Superior Gold!!!
First of all, fuck Tony. That a-hole never gives Spanish Johnny any love, but can't get enough of your blog. Granted, your blog contains some of the most impactful writing since the Bible, so perhaps I should cut him some slack.
Anyway, I apologize for meandering. I believe I know this woman in your post. She always has salad at her desk for lunch, right? In fact, she can't stop talking about salad. Salad this, salad that. It makes me sad. Because she knows that we know that she stops at Wendy's/Taco Bell/Panda Express (it's 15 miles out of the way and in the mall, but so worth it) on her way home from work everyday. Stop the charade, honey. You're fat and it's okay. We're not judging you. Okay, so we are. So what? Why the fuck do you care what we think? Get that Big Mac for lunch. Super Size that shit. OH YEAH!
(No, you're not the salad-eating woman I've been talking about this entire comment, MSG. Not too much of a betrayal.)
Listen, you perverted fuck, quit taking pictures of me at the gym or I'll come over there and kick your fat ass.
Wow. What a bunch of assholes who read my blog.
Except for you, Tony. Your cock is as golden as the award that bears your name.
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