I’m sorry, I don’t want to talk about how you think that
fat people are just so, like, rude and stuff for
being in the same place, at the same time, as your
glowing and dewy body.
And how you quaffed your hair just for the event and
your muscles, well, they would’t quite fit through the door and
when you finally made it, well, you should have known better
that a place like this just wasn’t meant for a man like you.
How underestimated you are! Your strength! Your brawn!
And then when we compliment you, you say
I’m on this new diet
but I’ve really got to lose some weight
I’m really not where I want to be
I’ve been trying to work out
have you seen my muscles?
I really don’t want to talk about how you think that
you’re just so much better than all these people
who don’t have
I don’t want to talk about that glimmer in your eye
or that new chick you met online or
special kinds of protein.
I don’t appreciate your casual remarks and flippant attitude towards
women, chicks, broads, the ladies
who surely exist purely just to stroke your partially deflated
flaccid and deformed
So today I’ll just pretend I didn’t hear you,
whoops, I wasn’t listening.
I guess you’ll have to find someone else.