I know. I know. I've been AWOL again. It happens. Get used to it. After I posted on Sunday that I'd discovered I was not grounded from the whiskey, I went ahead and indulged. Then I indulged some more. And some more. And the next thing I know, it was 1:30 a.m. and the kids were all, "Seriously Mom. GO TO BED. Why are you waking us up to ask who sings that song and insisting we get up and dance with you?" They are so not fun. So I went to bed because I had to get up and go to work anyway.
Well, what a HUGE mistake, and although I didn't feel too horrible, the day was insane crazy nuts at work and I never had time for lunch and I was running around like a maniac all day. And I've been in THAT mode ever since - trying to catch up. Last week was the full moon week, so I have no clue why this week is so crazy assed busy at work -but it is. And I don't have time to busy at work, I've got a gajillion things to do before graduation next week. But alas, my give-o-shit meter on getting those things done is very quickly waning.
Originally I wanted to have the new tile down in the kitchen. Then I decided maybe I'd just get on my hands and knees and scrub the existing floor. Then I talked myself into just mopping the floor. And now, fuck it. 15 minutes into the celebration the floor will be trashed anyway so why bother? I'm more focused on getting this skin tag removed from my armpit now that it's sleeveless shirt weather than I am with cleaning that fucking disgusting floor. And also, what the hell is it with me and these bizarre skin issues? Corns, skin tags, what's next? A sixth toe? A second head? Maybe a 3rd boob? I hope it's firm and supple.
Well since I've been mainly consumed by work this week, all my funny stories are about work and since I don't blog about work out of fear of being fired, I guess that's all I have to say about all that. Oh except for my fucking fat bastard neighbor. Jesus. He weighs AT LEAST 600 pounds I'd say. And yet insists on going around without a shirt on. I damned near lost my lunch when I was walking the dog tonight. There he was, in all his flubberness, standing out in his yard - without a shirt. It's wrong. I'm the size of his thigh, okay, maybe his arm - his forearm - well maybe his pinkie toe - and I had on more clothes. Then I was very very thankful that someone had invented clothes. I don't know who that was, but I'm definitely a fan. Wonder if they're on Facebook?
He drives a mini truck. It really is mini - like one of those Ford Ranger jobs, and I think he removed the front seats and just drives from the back seat or something like that. Anyway, one day, he met the husband and I on the road and he did not have on a shirt that day either. And we were in our car and I couldn't really see his entire body, so after we were done chatting with him, and we drove off, I said, "Please tell me that fat fuck had pants on" - the husband said he couldn't tell because his giant belly was laying all over the front seat. Gross. I mean seriously. I totally get that you could gain some weight. I do. But what I do not get is how the fuck you just give up and let yourself get that damned huge. Like that 1/2 ton man on TV - really? I mean, how does this work? One day you're gorging yourself at the local trough and the next day you're all, "Fuck it. Today is the day I can no longer get out of bed so I'm now bedridden. Hey honey?! I'm bedridden now - can you go to the store and get me some Depends?" Is that how it works?
I saw this guy on TV that was bedridden, so his wife moved the fucking stove into the living room where they'd put the fat bastard's bed so he could fucking lie in bed and cook. What.the.fuck. So let me get this straight: She goes to work every day and he lies in bed and shits his diapers and cooks her dinner so she can come home and clean his ass up (literally) and eat the food he prepares? I mean shit. I'm an enabler - but she was the an enabler to the nth degree. The guy is dead now I think. I think that was the update to the story I saw last. Did they ever really think that story would end differently?
I used to watch ALL the fat people shows. Every single last one of them. It was like watching a train wreck - it made me sick, but I couldn't stop watching. But then I noticed that my 7 year old wouldn't eat - EVER - and then she started referencing the fat fucks on TV that she had seen when hanging out with me during snuggle time. I think she was scared to eat for fear of ending up like one of those people, so I had to stop watching the shows. It was for her health. But I am curious how the fat ass in Mexico is doing and if he and his wife (I know, right?) are still together and if he was ever able to get out of that damned bed, or are they still towing him and his bed behind a big rig around town so he can see the sights? Jesus. That is pathetic on so many different levels, I can't even explain them all. I'm stuck in my bed because I'm too fucking fat. So the community removed an entire fucking wall of my house (which is really a department store I think) and put in sliding doors, that way I can sit in the window and see the people all day and they can see me. And then when I want to go about town, a fucking tow truck just hooks up to my bed and drags me around town. It's great! I'm my own parade!
Seriously? Did I just go off on fat people for that long? Yes. And I could go on and on for days. Months. Years. Like I said, I get gaining a few pounds. But I'm talking about morbidly obese folk. When you reach 100 lbs overweight - think about putting the fucking fork down. Gluttony is a sin. Isn't it? I can't find my Bible to double check and I wouldn't know where to look in it anyway. Not to mention how rude it is to take up so much fucking space in the world. It's selfish. It's disgusting and it's wrong. I love those fatties riding the rascals around the grocery store. Seriously? GET UP and fucking WALK - you might burn a calorie. Okay -I'm doing it again - BACK on the rant. See. I cannot stop. Once I get going on this subject it's like instant diarrhea of the mouth and it's impossible to shut me up. Bottom line is this - my neighbor needs to wear a shirt when he's in his front yard. Stupid fuck made me go off on a tangent for 1/2 hour now.
Oh - and one more thing. He has miniature dogs - like a mini pincher and a mini-chihuahua. And there I was, walking a lab that's exactly 3/4 my siz!e. What is it with him and this mini shit? Christ. Now I'm going to have to research into the psyche of huge people that makes them collect miniature shit. DAMMIT - I'm too fucking busy for this shit people. I have drapes to vacuum. Something tells me I'll know the secret to this mini shit before those drapes get done though..... stay tuned