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

somewhat soggy

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.


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