My Return

Well, that was a nice hiatus now, wasn't it? Yes, I've been gone for a long time. Doing what you ask? Absolutely nothing. I know, I could have been doing so many useful things with my life, but instead, I just sat around my tiny bacon smelling apartment where the walls are so greasy that a single spark could ignite the whole place and just burn it down. The fire department wouldn't be able to put out either, because grease fires only get bigger when water is introduced. But believe me, a huge destructive fire is just what Detroit needs, in fact, I don't think anyone would really notice. There are buildings all over the city that are still burning. The inhabitants of Detroit could care less about an aprtment fire. Well, except maybe my crazy neighbor. If my apartment building burnt down it would be like his birthday coming early. He would be sitting on a lawn chair sipping some red wine watching all this destruction around him without even blinking. In fact, he might even start crying at the "beauty" of it all. His face would probably resemble that of Nicolas Cage's character in "8mm" where he watches snuff porn.

Annnnyway, my little apartment is so hot the walls are seriously sweating, its either that or the old lady upstairs died while taking a bath and the water is overflowing and flooding the building, but I'll let my cheap ass arab landlord handle that one. You might think my comments about the old lady who lives above me are mean, but if you knew her you would take my side. She calls me names like "hairless yeti" and tells me I'm the reason people are starving all over the world. She also thinks I use all the water in the building, like somehow I magically redirect all the water in the building to my apartment when I shower, just because I am a seriously large person. Well, I'll tell you one thing, I don't even bother to turn on the fan anymore when I give birth to smelly chocolate babies in the bathroom. And hot air rises. I know she smells it when she bangs on the floor with what could be a sledgehammer, but its probably her walker. It reminds me of that drug commercial where the nice quaint family is living in the apartment above a meth addict who has a meth lab below them and the fumes are escaping into the nice family's apartment from the cooking meth below them. Thats almost exactly this scenario, except I'm cooking a chili based peanut buttery textured paste in my abdomin , not meth. The whole fumes thing is the same. They both are toxic, and I bet both could get you high...if you were so desperate that you needed a methane/meth high.

I don't get drugs anyway. I tried drugs, and guess what? No I'm not gonna give you the stereotypical fat guy answer which is "I just got the munchies and ate more". No, what happened when I tried drugs is that I spent a lot of money just to hang around my apartment. I just sat in here eating unpopped kernels of pop corn, which I guess would just be called corn. And actually, now that I think about it, I may have eaten a little more than usual, or at least thats the excuse I tell myself in order to eat more without feeling guilty about hogging the worlds food supply. Maybe I'm not trying the right drugs. Maybe I need like crack or speed to help me lose weight. I know my crazy neighbor has bottles and bottles of chloroform, but I don't think its for him. Ok, well I think I just heard my landlord scream "allah be merciful", which means he either found that old lady's bloated, decomposing, water-soaked body or the pipes leading from my toilet burst in the walls below my apartment again due to a major blockage. Either one will satisfy me I guess. Keep you posted.

That time of year again

So, it's that time of year again. Time for me to go back to Wayne State University to not graduate for 2 more years. It's complete bullshit. They must think I have nothing better to spend my money on then classes that don't teach me anything. I guess they've never heard of food or quadruple bypass surgery. Oh well. My first day wasn't THAT bad, just the usual terrible day that I've grown accustom to.

My first class was in a lecture hall. I was late and it was full. Usually they have seats at the top reserved for land monsters like myself, but to my suprise (not really) these seats were all taken by skinny ass white chicks who didnt even fit in one of the pre-molded ass cheeks that are on the seats of the special chairs. I call the chairs special because they are very wide and made for people like me. They have ass grooves already in them to help make them more comfortable. They also smell like a spicy curry ham sandwich, but thats another story altogether.

I wanted to sit down without the instructer noticing so I tried to shuffle down the aisle and find the closest set of 3 seats in a row. There werent any. I tried to squeeze down the first row I came across but when I tried to "squeeze" I ended up putting my ass in some girls face and hitting the guy in fornt of me with my stubborn belly fat. Needless to say the girl started dry heaving and the guy took exception t me knocking off his hat with my fat. This caused a huge uproar and the instructor had to stop lecture and call me out in front of the whole class. These are his exact words...

Instructor: Whats the meaning of this? What are you doing there son? A big boy like you should be up at the top of the class, in the special chairs.

Me: Sorry sir, the special chairs are all taken and I thought I could just....

Instructor: Hold it right there son. I think you should know better than to try to squeeze your 700 pound frame into one of those seats made for normal people. Heck, I bet they stream this class online for your types.

Me: My types?

Instructor: Lets be honest son, you have a disabilty...your allergic to salads

:Laughter:

Instructor: I bet when you sit around the house, you sit AROUND the house...

:Laughter:

Instructor: I bet when you walk backwards you beep...

:Laughter:

Instrcutor: When you go to the ocean, the whales come out and sing "we are family".

:Laughter:

Me: Those were maybe funny in 2nd grade. I don't need to take this I'm leaving.

Instructor: Dont bother signing in then, I'll just mark off Pillsbury Doughboy from the list

"More laughter:

I left the class very angry at my professor, so I thought I'd go to the History Department to complain. When I got there I told my story to the secretary, who informed me that my professor was an ex-stand up comedian, and this wasn't the first time he had made a student leave class. I told her I wanted to speak to the head of the department. She told me that the department head's office was on the 7th floor, and that she knew I wouldn't go there. I asked her why, and she replied "because the elevator is out of service". Then she laughed for about 4 minutes. I didn't see what was so funny. So what she was right. I had a plan.

I went to McDonalds instead. Oh, what a cheap way out you think. Or, wow what a vicious cycle of eating and ridicule and eating due to ridicule that leads to more ridicule and more eating. You're wrong. I needed to take a McDonald's crap. I went and ordered 3 20 piece nugget meals. Ate them all, and then I took a massive 11lb Mcdonalds dump, sealed it in my empty McDonalds bag, and left it in my professors mailbox at the history department. Shitting in a bag is harder then you think, but what is even harder is convincing the secretary at the History department that your McDonalds bag isn't full of shit. She was like "ummm, it smells very bad and it's pretty clear its coming from that bag". I just replied that I hadn't wiped in a couple of days. That REALLY shut her up. I then proceeded to hand the bag to her, and in the process it leaked a little from the bottom. I said "man they make those burgers so juicy". And then I left. It's not like my professor won't find out I did it. I mean, the secretary will just tell him a very large man came in and dropped off an 11lb bag of raw human feces in your mailbox. He'll know it was me, but he will forever regret not letting me sign my name into the attendence sheet. I will forever be know as the pillsbury doughboy who dropped off a leaky bag of shit at his office. Yes, the smell of success (eww), I mean, the taste of victory (EEEEEWWWW).

I almost died...

This summer has been a very hot one. Ok, well maybe for all you skinny people out there it hasn't with the record lows and whatnot, but for those of us who carry around blubber, it has been very hot. By the way, while I'm on the subject, I was very suprised to find out that I have blubber. I thought only animals such as whales and walrus' had blubber, but my doctor referred to my fat as "blubber". He said, "boy, you must love these Michigan winters with all that blubber". At first I thought he was joking, so I said, "you must love Michigan because you can use your skinny ass as a pseudo-saucer for sleding down hills". He immediately took offence to my comment and told me his pancake booty was from a degenerative illness. Boy, that was extremely awkward. He then informed me that "blubber" was the correct term for my fat deposits since they resemble those of many marine animals. Needless to say I felt very guilty for eating 5 Big Macs before my appointment, but at least I didn't finish all 7 of my apple pies.
Anyway, I digress. The summer is the worst season for me. I sweat enough to fill up baby sized pools, and indeed I place my tv watching chair in a baby pool while I watch tv during the summer because the tenents below me were complaining about a "smelly leak" in their ceiling. Well I'm sorry we're all not perfect. What a bunch of heartless jerks. Don't they realize that I have the equivolent of 6 fur coats attached to my body at all times? (i.e. blubber). and of course my apartment has no working air conditioning, and all I have is a fan because my personal air conditioner broke and leaked Chinese Freon all over my hands and exposed fat folds.
So this fan is worthless. It just blows warm air back in my face the whole time. Like thanks for nothing. What a dumb ass invention. If people were using it back in 2000 b.c. you know its a stupid invention, like the wheel and written alphabets.
So I almost killed myself when I was sitting next to the fan when it blew sweat into my eyes. The salt burned so badly that I stood up to rinse my eyes out with water when I slipped on a puddle of my OWN sweat. Thank goodness the neighbors were home. They thought a sky diver fell into the building from the enormous "thud" they heard. I think they were exagerrating just a little. Well anyway, it ends up I had a pretty bad concussion and needed a CAT scan. I'm ok. but from now on I'm wearing those shoes that make sure you don't slip. I wear nothing but those. We'll see how this works out.

I May Be a King

Ok, so today I was at the gas station looking at the candy aisle trying to decide what to make my candy bar sandwich out of, and I realized something. The king sized candy bars are named "king" for a reason, because they are bigger. This may seem obvious, but, who eats big candy bars? Morbidly obese people like me do! So, if we use logic, this means:

King sized candy bars are made for kings, and fat people eat these candy bars, therefore making them kings.

The man at the gas station , abdul hussein, did not appreciate my yelling and commanding, and he kicked me out of his store. I was just telling him to give me all of the candy for free. I mean, I am a king am I not? He was saying shit like "get out of my store, you fat man!!! I have never seen such a beast of a man!! What is the meaning of this!!!"

This is the same man who exclaimed "Allah be merciful" when he first saw me walk in. That was really good for my ego. Anyway, I ate about 5 of the candy bars outside of the gas station, and then I walked to my broke ass car and drove 500 feet to my apartment entrance. Yeah, its good to be the king.

Did you get worried?

Well, it's been an interesting 4 months to say the least. A lot happened in my life which gave me no time to rant about trivial dilemma's in my everyday life. JUST JOKING! Nothing spectacular happened, except for the fact that I bought a fridge for my bedroom. Now I don't even have to get out of bed to get a delicious double bacon and no lettuce or tomato sandwich. A little thing I call a "Dub B no L or T", although I do admit the abbreviation isn't actually that helpful, and that I only use this abbreviation when addressing my stomach's constant hunger pains. Let me recap some major events that occurred in my life while I was on hiatus.




Major events in life list:



Installed fridge in room


Got in altercation at subway in downtown detroit for not being able to buy quadruple meat for my sub. I didn't know that double meat was the highest they could go.


Broke the toilet at mejier on 12 mile and telegraph because apparently it wasn't made for "heavy people" as the assistant manager told me. I had porcelain shards in my ass fat for days, and they had to renovate their bathrooms under code 4.17.03 of the Michigan Building Code. They also called the fire department when they found me. I was unable to wipe for days. Anyyyywayyy...




I made fake profiles on match.com and eharmony to see if there is actually a chance for me meeting a girl in this world, and apparently there isn't. I actually got matched with a Parmesan meatball sandwich. This news was slightly depressing yet tasty.


I almost got stuck in my bathtub. I was standing up at the time.


I participated in a research study at my college for the travel compensation money, since I was going there anyway. The study was on whether or not eating a diet high in certain minerals could curb eating desires. They can't. I was kicked out of the study by week 2 because I did not fit the criteria of what a "normal person is". My ginormous appetite skewed the research data so badly that the who study was scratched.


I learned that I am not a "normal person" by some 24 year old psychology grad student at Wayne State University.




I hid a fresh, massively long "Lincoln Log" in some 24 year old psychology grad student's desk. I also threw a bunch of papers on top of it to further heighten the surprise.


And that's about it. I know there is more, but writing makes me depressed sometimes. Or hungry. Actually, it makes me both.




Oh, one more thing happened. My crazy neighbors power went out some how, and he asked to come over and use the phone. Maybe it had to do with the strange gunshot noises I heard coming from his house, or the fact that he was probably practicing how to cut the power to a house, and accidentally cut the power to his own house during the practice. Who knows. So anyway, I let him use the phone, and he dials like 18 numbers and just waits for 5 minutes while the phone rings and rings on the other end. He had the volume on the phone up all the way, so i could hear everything. The ringing and ringing lasted forever. It was really awkward. Then, once I was about to suggest that maybe the person he wants to reach isn't home, the line picks up, but no one talks. He sat in silence for maybe 2 minutes breathing into the phone, with neither party saying anything, then he hung up abruptly. This is an actual photo of the event.


























Then, while he was waiting for the electrical company to come to his house, he noticed the Wii I had bought in order to exercise while playing video games (which never happens), and he asked what it was. At first I thought he was stalling for time, maybe because he doesn't like to be in his house alone in the dark, but then I remembered that he was always in his house alone in the dark, so I thought maybe he was being serious. I showed him the Wii and how it worked, and he wasn't amused. We even made him an avatar. He still wasn't amused. He said too many flashing lights bring back painful memories. THANK GOD the electrical company come before he shared some of those painful memories. I now have this character in my Wii, because I don't know how to delete it. Honestly, it just creeps me out.







That's the actual Wii avatar in my gaming console. Worst part is, some games I have to play against the CPU controlled version of this avatar. I tried to delete it, but it just came back, so I don't know what to do.

Well, how was your past 4 months?

New Years

It's New Years Eve right now, and I'm sitting at home drinking leftover Eggnog that I'm pretty sure went bad a week ago. This is really gonna give me gas pains. Anyway, besides my debilitating gastrointestinal problem, everything is going ok. I got annoyed the other day, which usually isn't a big deal, but for some reason this stuck. Some guy at the donut shop said to me "Happy new years!", but it was like, 3 days too early. I replied "it's actually, happy new YEAR". You know, because it wasn't new year's eve, or new year's day, he should said, happy new year, using the singular instead of the possesive which sounds like the plural. I think thats correct. Well, it's my blog, so it's correct. Anyways, the guy gave me a weird look, like he was about to have a heart attack, or like he drank bad egg nog, and he whispered "get out and never come back". So I did. He is foreign, and I think I offended him by either correcting his horrible English, or rejecting his wish that I have an infinite amount of happy new years. I don't feel bad though, he's probably taking some hard working American's job. Who am I kidding, he's probably taking my job. Do I want it? No, not really. I'm happy being the before pictures for many weight loss pill manufacturers. So happy new year's eve to everyone that I like, which does not include my crazy homicidal neighbor. He's probably watching horror movies to perfect his technique. What a creepy guy, really. I went to his house the other day to tell him to turn his tv down because the screams from the horror movie he was watching woke me up, but when he answered the door, the tv was off. He also looked like this when he answered the door...

Ok, I'm gonna go throw up from my bottom now.

I Wanna Be On TV!

So today I was flipping through the channels during a commercial on the food network when came across a show that caught my eye. It was called "extreme bodies" and it was about fat people. I mean people fatter than me. Like fatter than a sumo wrestler. Like land monsters. Ok, that might sound mean, but I'm allowed to poke fun. I mean, I'll be there in the next decade, so let me have my fun now before my quintuple heart attacks and failed quadruple bypass surgery ( don't worry, I get a heart transplant from a monkey ( a fat monkey)). In fact, while were on the subject of fat, do you think its not fun for these people to be fat? I mean, I know skinny people deprive themselves of delicious food all of the time, leading me to believe they must not know the joy of eating fatty foods. Its my guess that the average skinny person has not eaten a stick of butter like a Popsicle. Well, if that's true, then it's also my guess that the average skinny person has not really lived. Skinny people are just dumb. They deprive themselves of the paramount joy in life; eating until theres no point to life anymore. Believe me, these skinny people love the abuse, either that or they do it because they're uneducated. Really, I see it happen and it amazes me. Skinny people are like "oh, no thanks, I don't want a cupcake" or "oh, that's waaaaay too much ice cream for me".

I'm secretly panting, "WHAT THE FUUUUUCK!?!?!" as I eat handfuls of Ritz Bitz sandwhiches instead of breathing.

First of all, there is never too much ice cream, only too little. Much too little. So back that skinny, negative parabola, pancake booty up, because my fat ass is coming through, and you know what, I'm taking up all the space on the toilet seat, at the public toilets, at Wayne State University's Student Center, on the 1st floor across from barnes and nibbles, where you can shop and you'll hear it before you smell it and I bet it ruins your appetite for that soft pretzel because that gooey pretzel has twists in it, and then you'll wonder if a gas main burst so then you'll check out the men's room and you'll hear straining and sweating coming from the last stall in the row which is reserved for the handicapped, and I'll be holding onto the bars in there doing my best Olympic gymnast impression, while I give birth to a 11lb 5oz mahogany monster, which will not flush because I used way too much of the see through, rip through, make your hand brown, cheap ass, rash giving, ass hair burning, hemorrhoid causing toilet paper, and then you will understand why I physically could not accept the offer to supersize my three quater pounder and cheese meals from McDonald's.

Second of all, being fat could get you on tv apparently. So, you know, that's a positive.