We Need To Talk
Ladies, I know that your lives can be difficult sometimes. Sometimes you find yourself walking in the woods alone, or frolicking with children, totally devoid of purpose because you are Without Your Man. But that doesn’t mean that you should sit on the couch, scarfing down bon-bons like Oprah on Easter morning. Don’t you want to have a good shape? He wants you with a good shape, goddammit. Stop porking the fuck out, and think of your man, for chrissakes! Otherwise, you’re not going to stick in his mind, and then what happens? Well, I’ll tell you what happens: One day you’ll walk in to find him elbow deep in your sister, that is what will happen, you fat, selfish pig. But don’t take my word for it. Listen to your good friends at the Coca-Cola corporation:
I’m glad you posted that video. For a minute there I thought Alec Baldwin had taken over your blog.
He tried, but I lured him into the basement with a copy of the Utne Reader. The plan was to ransom him off, but nobody offered me more than $30, and to tell you the truth, I’m starting to get a little desperate. It’s starting to smell down there, and he’s convinced the dog that we need universal health care for pets.
Damn, I’ve forgotten how to tease my hair and roll it into a turd shape at the back of my head. Oh wait, I never did that.
I’ve been offline for a week. My ISP will be giving me compensation or dealing with the telecommunications ombudsman, whichever will give them more grief. It’s almost embarrassing to realise how much I rely on the internet. Although, my home is spotless, and I’ve read four books in the past five days.
Tell them that my resulting loss in readership cost me $42,000 in advertising revenue, and I am expecting a fucking check.
Oh. brother.
Brothers don’t care if you have a good shape. Unless you live in Arkansas. And then they care way too much.