Gymboree

I stayed inside puttering around today, writing wonderful tales of Danny Gokey and a journalist based on me. It's a love story and I'm putting some really hot stuff into it! I'm going to get it published because I know everyone out there would be interested in reading about hot Gokey pokey.

It's so hot that I forgot to eat today and those pesky cat brats kept driving me insane with their meowing for food and petting. By the time I took the bus down to the gym I was het up in parts south, if you know what I mean. My swanky 56ZZZ tittays were standing up at attention in my new swimsuit and I flew through my exercise routine thinking about riding Danny like he was an inflatable man, errr, cowboy..umm, wrassler... I meant hobby horse. I guess I was rubbing myself in the hot tub because the guy next to me got so hot and bothered that he whipped out his giant kielbasa and started rubbing it. I rubbed, he rubbed, fast and furious, more and more. Just as we were reaching shangrila the lifeguard stormed over and shouted, "Oh great! Now I gotta sanitize the whole damn pool area again!" We got tossed from the joint. I never did find out my admirers name.

Love

I think I'm in love. I have that tingly feeling all over and I cannot eat, sleep or do anything but lay on the sofa and stare at the tv screen. I've been watching American Idol Rewind and wondering how I could have skipped noticing the masculine hotness that is Danny Gokey! I renamed my cats, Adam and Lambert to Danny and Gokey in his honor!

The glasses give him a look of intelligent interlectual prowess and i know he's in the need of sweet sweet loving since his wife died right before Idol. When I wasn't watching him on AI Rewind I was Googling With Out Probable Cause to find out all about him, his habits, his likes, his hangouts.

I could see myself as Mrs. Danny Gokey II after I lose a few more pounds. I wonder if he's ever going to play near here? His music makes my loins quiver and my brain think very dirty thoughts.

People have been stopping by to pound on the door all day but I cannot be bugged to answer because I'm busy with Danny "Better Than Moonpies" Gokey. No more Adam Lambert for me.

Mudbutt

Today I went down to the gym on the bus and tried to do my exercises. Ended up spending money that I really needed for a new Rascal on a new swimsuit. I got a swanky one in royal blue with hot racing stripes. I could feel the admiring eyes of all the hot gentlemen down at the pool. Lots of staring at my all natural ZZZ59 inch boobs.

But that food from the church has given me the runs. Not swanky. In fact it upsets me because I was hoping for a hot kielbasa  up the keister by one of the hot guys at the gym. You can't have hot butt sex if you have the runs. I wasted all that time sitting in the sauna waiting for some stud to fill my holes for nothing.

Short Prayer

Without my Rascal I'm a virtual prisoner. I went nowhere today and did nothing. Plus, I'm a sight more humiliated now that those ugly canasta playing biddies here spread the word I'm a jail bird. Easier to stay inside and mastur-you-know-what over pictures of wrasslers than face their smug skeleton whore faces.

Mastur-yoo-know-what is an exercise, isn't it?

So I exercised too.

Around dark one of them nice ladies I met at church last week came around with some food goodies for me. Says the congregation was concerned that I didn't show up today and decided to see what was up. I broke down in tears and confessed my sad situations and how my Rascal got took by the long arm of the law. Miz Jenkins, the visitor, told me that they'd get me a lawyer for free from the congregation and they'd see what they could do about transportation for me.

After she left I was happy to note that there were not one but two blueberry pies in that food box. Who can think about dieting when life is serving you shit sandwiches?

Life Of Crime

Today was the pits, literally the pits. I weighed in at the gym before trying to walk in the pool track and I have not gained or lost an ounce in two weeks. I'm still 17 pounds down. Ugh. I guess I should make more of an effort not to eat. I cannot afford to get gastric banding like L Anne.

When I got home from the gym visit the coppers were waiting for me, waiting on my door. Turns out there have been a whole slew of complaints according to them about me and my Rascal driving. They know I ran over Esther's foot and that my arrival in the middle of the Canasta game on my Rascal triggered Marge's heart attack. They told me that Marge's family wants me charged with manslaughter for my role in her heart attack but they had to explain to the family that it would be difficult to prove in court.

The nice officers mentioned that there were reports of a large woman on a Rascal stealing a plate dinner from the Kiwanis fundraiser and racing through the Piggly Wiggly parking lot narrowly missing running over kids and pets. And another report of a woman on a Rascal crashing multiple private events at the Best Western. And yesterday, they apparently caught me on camera rolling down the street with Cyndia and the accident.

They said they had no option but to arrest me on a buncha charges, petit theft, assault with a deadly weapon, theft by impersonation and operating a motor vehicle on the street without license or registration plus, the capper, leaving the scene of an accident. They put me in the big police car in handcuffs, took me downtown and booked me. I'll never get that yucky fingerprint ink off my beautiful pink fingers.

I was incarcerated for most of the day until I called Meagan. She came down to the station and talked the cops into releasing me on my own recognize. They did take my Rascal and I will have to go to court but I'm out. Meagan kept arguing that someone as fat as me had to be out of their right mind in the first place and putting the mentally ill in jail for things they did while out of their mind was unethsatian or unethically.

Jail was miserable. The worst thing was the food and the people. The meals were stale white bread, stale baloney and almost rotten oranges. How can you keep body and soul together on such a meal of such mean serving sizes? It was yuck!

The holding cell I was in was filled with drunken skeleton whores sleeping off booze and prostitutes! I'm too high class of a person to be consorting with escorts! I hope I didn't pick up crabs or worse sitting on the toilet seat. Gonna douche with Lysol and then scrub down my body with Pine Sol. I think I have jailhouse stink on me now. This whole day was too humiliating for someone as high class as me.

Perhaps I should email L Anne and ask her how she handled all her time in the pokey for her various crimes. I would love to hear what the goddess has to say about jailing.

The Road To Hell

is paved with good intentions..

Today I did real good at dieting, at least until I went down to the Silver Strutters dancing thingee. Okay, so I'm not 'officially' a senior but since I'm disabled and living in an apartment complex for impoverished seniors and cripples I'm frequently invited to participate in free events geared towards senior citizens run by the local community services board. Once a month they hold a tea dance and once a month I put on my prettiest floral dress and white gloves to attend.

It's extra swanky, they even use the fancy expensive paper napkins that look like cloth. There's punch and tea cookies in plastic that could pass for silver and crystal. With the fake flower arrangements and other stuff if you squint real hard you could almost imagine you're having high tea at the Yacht Club.

I don't rightly dance, I spin around the dance floor without a partner in my Rascal to the old timey music between visits to the punch bowl and cookies. Today the skinny uppity c-word in charge told me that Meagan had instructed her I could not use my Rascal there, I had to stand and dance! As if! For the kicker I was also told I was FORBIDDEN to have any punch or cookies. Meagan left strict orders that I was to be allowed a glass of cool water only.

That really chapped my fanny so I didn't dance, I sat off to the side and seethed, watching Mary Byrd show off her ballroom dancing skills with some ugly fag from the local Arthur Murray school. Big deal. So the old bat can dance, she lives on lettuce leaves. But she doesn't have my sex appeal.

Eventually Cyndia Lou from the next apartment building over from mine, showed up and sat next to me. Cyndia doesn't dance either on account of hers many problems, one clubbed foot, glasses like coke bottle bottoms and she's still mostly blind, asthma, you-name-it she's got it. I could hear her rattling wheezing breath before I saw her. I don't know her too well so I was really surprised when she suggested we ditch this snoozefest and hightail it down to McDonalds.

We worked out a system, Cyndia beeing so short and tiny would stand on the battery at the back of my Rascal and I would pilot the Rascal over to McDonalds. In exchange for riding her down there Cyndia would buy me a extry value meal of 2 fish sammiches with fries and a jumbo choco shake.

Got there in one piece and got our food. Damn, it was good, better than that bowl of oatmeal I had for breakfast. That oatmeal made me so hungry the rest of the morning. Cyndia might be teensy but she could put away the food, ete a Big Mac, fries, 10 piece nugget, a pie and a shake. Good times.

The problems started happening on the way home. Traffic was way worse and folks were swooping by at the speed of light, honking at me to get out of the street. Cyndia got scared and kept clutching me hard, scratching me with her nails atrying to dig in to stay on. I kept slapping at her hands. Ended up driving my precious Rascal into a lightpole. Cyndia was thrown from the back, her glasses flew off and a 18 wheeler ran 'em over. She lay there in the bushes bleeding like a stuck pig from a head wound screeching I owed her for a new pair of glasses because my Rascal-driving caused her to lose her glasses.

I got so flustered I accidentally backed my Rascal over her before I floored it and got the heck out of there, leaving her screaming in the bushes. Cyndia will be alright, I think, I hope. But I guess I'll be tiptoing to the door to see who's there out the spyhole for a while.

Stiff As A Broad

This morning didn't hold much promise, just a bunch of old biddies fighting over where we should put the fake flower arrangements for Marge's memorial held tonight in the community room. Felicia wanted the silk flowers around the main table with the burial urn but Gladys says that is just tacky. I tuned out as they found and thought about sweet sweet George Clooney. What I wouldn't do to that hunk o man!

After that frustrating meeting I went to the gym to work out, just like my social worker Meagan was demanding. But I had a bit of a problem, as I slid off my Rascal and stripped til I was buck nekkid a man came into the room. I could tell right away he was turned on by my all natural 47EEE boobies and curves by the way he turned red and started panting. It was only when I tried to take his pants down to give him a blow job that I found out he was dead. I guess the shock of seeing all-natural all-woman me was too much for his old ticker. I did lift a couple of twenties from his bill fold before the EMTs hauled his biscuits away.

The memorial service for Marge was too long, too boring and not enough good food at it. There were rutabaga pickles, tomato aspic, stale saltines and hard cheese slices on bread sandwiches. I made PB&J mini sandwiches and sugar cookies. But I didn't get to eat any of it, Marge's family took offense at me being there after hearing that my Rascal riding to taste the coffee cake may have caused Marge's pacemaker to go haywire and her heart to die. They kicked me out of the reception.

Late

So I'm late posting about yesterday's dieting day. There wasn't much dieting going on. I'm supposed to be making snacks for Marge's memorial service this afternoon and it was a day fraughht with perils. The first batch of cookies I eat the dough for. The second and theird batch mostly made it to the oven.

Did okay on the eating if you forget about the cookie dough, I had a crab stuffed avacado, some rice cakes, and a dietatetic chicken pot pie with a whole lotta diet soda.

They asked me to be one of the folks to speak about Marge but nothing I said persuaded apartment managment to let me into her apartment to find something that reminded me of Margie to show and talk about. Spoilsports. I just wanted to see what was in her medicine cabinet and fridge. I burned through her Ativan the day after the Pig Party incident.

Gotta make up the little fingery sammiches this morning before I run down to the Fashion Bug and see if they still carry pantyhose in size 5XX. Think I'm going to have my hair did too, it's a little wild right now, hard to style like Betty White's.

Adamite

I had to take my kitty Adam to the vet today. He's due for his shots.

I can see I'm going to have to do what Meagan is demanding and work out daily. It was a bitch getting Adam in his cat crate from my Rascal and just picking up the crate to roll over to Dr. B's office. I can see where walking might have it's advantages. It was hard to hold Mr. Adam down on the examination table from my Rascal too. Dr. B. missed Adam when Adam squirmed and I ended up getting the Rabies shot instead.

Today I was virtuous and boring in my eating. I had yogurt, fruit, a crab meat stuffed avocado and a Dove ice cream bar. I'm well under my calorie count.

But I don't know how long that's gonna last. Marge died and the resident committee here asked me to help with the refreshments. I've been drafted to make sammichs and cookies for the memorial service on Thursday night in the community room.

It's going to be hard to heat up those Pillsbury cookie rolls without eating some of their sweet sweet deliciousness. I might have to fast all day so I can sample all the food at the memorial service.

Tomorrow morning we're having a planning meeting for the memorial and reception so I'll be up bright and early for that. I almost hope someone brings doughnuts..mmmm doughnuts.

I wonder what Marge has left in her fridge and if I can jimmy the lock.

Miss Pig

I found out last night that a Pig Party is not something you should ever want to attend if you're a lady. I'm still upset and trembling from what happened last night. I haven't been answering the door or the phone today. I've been sitting here in the dark with a package of baloney, white bread and mayo eating sandwiches and chips ahoy cookies to calm my mind.

Right after posting last night I started getting ready for the party. I took a bath, thoroughly washing all my parts with a washrag on a stick dipped into Joy dishwashing liquid. I wanted to smell nice just in case my date turned intimate. I curled my hair to look like Betty White and used the last of my Maybelline Wet n' Wild makeup, blue eye shadow, pink blush, pink lipstick before donning my new clothes and black Crocs.

I waited on the sidewalk in front of the apartments a long long time before Chester pulled up in his van. Unfortunately we couldn't get my Rascal into the van so I had to chain it to stop sign before getting into the van. Chester looked yummy! Short brown hair, he looks like a young Taylor Hicks but with prettier eyes. He belched a lot and smelled like beer. He was such a gentleman at first, offering me a Mickey's Big Mouth Malt Liquor for the ride to the frat house. He's a member of Tappa Kegga Breu.

When we got to the frat house I was feeling no pain because I'd had four Mickeys at that point. The party room in the house was decorated with farmyard things, bales of hay, real live goats, sheep and a calf. Most of the guys seemed pretty drunk already and there was a wide selection of booze. I was careful not to step in the piles of poo from the animals as I didn't want to ruin my shoes.

Most of the guys had dates but boy, was I surprised at who they brought. No uppity skeleton whore types at all. There were many fat gals and a whole lot of very ugly girls. No one was making out, just standing around drinking until the music started. No one danced but one dude got up and announced into the lone microphone that they were almost ready to crown Miss Pig of the night.

By that time all the Mickeys I drank combined with all the cheap wine and Chester started looking pretty good to me. I kept batting my eyelashes at him and smiling but he still didn't get the message that I wanted to screw so I grabbed his fine tight ass and rubbed up against him. He pushed me away and said, "Knock it off. I wouldn't bang you if you were the last nasty ho on the planet."

Chester shoved me just hard enough to make me lose my balance, I fell down gasping, "Then what am I doing here if it's not romantic. Don't you want to spurt milky white ropes of cum in me?'

He snickered and said, "Are you kidding? You're my entry for the Miss Pig contest." Before I could react to his shocking words the MC announced my name as Miss Pig. Everyone laughed at me and pointed and yelled 'Soooooooey!'. I could feel myself turning red and I RAN out of the room shrieking, trying to get as far away from those laughing jackasses as possible.

Took me an hour to get home using the bus system. Some old toothless wino at the main bus station offered me five bucks to sleep with him but I ignored his uncultured ass.

Tomorrow is another day and I'll show all these sniggering idiots, I'll diet, I'll exercise and I'll lose the weight! Help me L Anne!!

Praise The Lard!

I found a way to weasel out of that frustrating exercise regimen that nosy Meagan the Social Worker cooked up for me daily. I told her I was very religious and I could NOT do worldly things on a Sunday, I believed in keeping the Sabbath holy.

She bought it and backed off trying to force me to sweat today. But Meagan kept questioning me what religion I was. In a pinch the only thing I could come up with was that I was a member of the Methodists down the street. Just in case Meagan was watching me, checking out my story, I gussied up in my finest dress and rolled down the street in my Rascal around 8 am for the first service.

From the first moment I opened the door and smelled the heavenly aroma of pancakes and sausage I knew I was in the right place. Turns out they were having a pancake breakfast. I had seconds and thirds that everyone was urging on me. What nice people!

I sat through the first service and found out there was coffee, doughnuts and cake after each service. Praise the Lard, that's what I call a religion! By gumm, I stayed for all three services and had something to eat after each. By the time the pot luck dinner rolled around I was feeling like a tick about to explode!

Some of the members asked about my situation and I explained I was disabled and getting by on a small fixed income from the government. They were all atwitter about that, took up a collection for me as well as gave me gift cards to a couple of local restaurants and grocery stores. It was like hitting the lottery! I have to do this religion stuff more often!

I even had enough money to go get a new outfit for the frat party tonight. I got a pair of sparkly spandex leggins and a sequinned top with the words 'Hot Stuff' spelled out in glitter on the front. I'm doing my hair in a few minutes and putting on a little makeup.

Planning on having a swinging time with Chester tonight. Hell, I might even get laid if I'm swanky enough!

Walk This Way

Did ja ever have a day that started out bright and sunny, like you couldn't lose and you just knew it was going to be a glorious A-Okay day only to have it come apart at the seams like a cheap Korean-make polyester bra? That's been the kindaofaday I'm having but the night is looking up.

Today's the day when the USDA gives out the government cheese, butter and other yummy foods down at the local church. I took the bus down from the apartments across town very bright and early to make sure I get some. There's always folks waiting with me but lately it's been more crowded than than swanky skeleton coke-whores at Charlie Sheen's house. People you never would think are on assistance have been crashing the party over at the food bank and USDA.

And it's a good thing I got there early too because they ran out of food eventually. I managed to get two boxes, two monthly rations, because when I'd borrow the money, drugs and candy out of Marge's purse I took her bus pass to get here and her monthly ration card. I told the ladies running the program that Marge was getting out of the hospital today or tomorrow and I needed to pick hers up too. They believed me and gave me a full extra month's ration. They don't know that Marge has taken a turn for the worst last night and will be in the hospital quite a while longer. She won't miss the cheese and butter.

By the time I got my spoils home it was almost lunchtime. I put all teh groceries away before settling down with the kitties to watch a Lifetime movie. I didn't get but a few minutes worth watched when my Social Worker Meagan appeared. She told me I had physical therapy down at the hospital wellness center and nothing I said would dissuade Meagan. What the hell does she know about losing weight anyhoo? She's a stick figure strumpet showing off all the time, flipping her long blonde hair and wriggling her non-existent ass.

When we got to the health center Meagan made me leave my Rascal at the front door, telling me she wanted me to walk as much as possible. Oh hell, my legs started hurting right away but the only thing that they would do is give me a tylenol for the pain before some other skinny skeleton whore uppity c-word started trying to make me show her how much I could do on various exercise equipment. Then they made me get into the swimming pool and walk around the edge over and over and over again until I was so dizzy that I didn't know  I wasn't on a Tilt-A-Whirl.

Afterwards Meagan and the snotty instructor told me I have to come in this place every morning and do the exercises they've worked out for me. Damn, I hate this, by the time I left all I wanted was a long nap and an extra super sized serving of Mickey Dees fries.

So I napped before taking my Rascal on the tree-lined streets of my local university. One of the young boys in front of a frat house invited me in so I went. Most of his buddies were passed out in the shrubbery and there was left over bags of McDonald's chow and pizzas as well as beer. I helped myself and the guy that invited me insisted I come back the next night. They're having something called a 'Pig Party' and I'm his date for the party.  Chester is his name and he's a cutey! I can't wait till tomorrow night. I feel like a cougar. He doesn't even mind my Rascal.

Wish me luck

Laid Low

I've had to act my large ass off. If only it really took teh pounds away.

The cops are asearching for Marge's purse. They seemed to think I might know where it is. But I told them nope, hadn't a clue, before high tailing it back to the community room and stashing it under the sofa. But only after I removed an emergency twenty from a flap in the wallet, her big bottle of Ativans and a delicious Snickers bar. The coppers were at someone else's apartment as I got back and asked me why I was sneaking around. I explained I'd gone out to get a 'snack' and waved the Snickers in their faces.

I think I've pulled it off, pulled the black wool over the pigs eyes. They left and they ain't been back. I heard from Thelma down at the mail boxes that Marge's purse had been found under the sofa where she'd left it. The other residents were all saying Marge had plum lost her durn fool mind and couldnd't remember where she left that purse. Turns out Marge will be coming home from the hospital tomorrow.

Spent the rest of the day listening to the Adam Lambert CD that Carol gave me at the Piggely Wiggly! It's so grate! How could I have missed such musical mastery, a genius, Freddie Mercury but more on keey and relevant? I've been dancing to a song called 'Aftermath', it's my theme song for my weight loss. Been looking at all the photos on Adam Official and I am in love!

Get Creative!

Yesterday before I could throw out all those scary sickening veggies my Social Worker came back. Her name is Mary and she took over my kitchen, trying to make me cook all that disgusting low fat low sugar tasteless hockey pucks and such like. I kept dreaming about licking chocolate sause off those yummy MMA guys and kept losing track of what she was rambling on about.

Today I decided to try one of the dishes Mary cooked up. It was marked 'Chile Relenos'. I was so excited because they are soooooooo good! Gooey melted cheese stuffed in a battered and fried up pepper. Well sir, I took one bite of hers and nearly gagged! IT WAS STUFFED WITH VEGETABLES!! and not much cheese. No fried battered up skin and the pepper was so damn hot! She musta used some sort of Guatemalan Insanity Pepper. Just scraping the nasty remains into the garbage disposal left hot pepper oil on my fingers. I forgot and touched my eyes and my twat with my burning fingers and was blind and horney for an hour. I bet it burns coming out of my tangy bung tomorrow too. Burned going in.

Supper time came and I decided to put one of L Anne's rules in place. When out of yummy food or food stamps simpley crash a swanky social event. I put on my ritzy blue and turquoise dress and went to hang out at the local Best Western hotel. I ate with the Rototarians, I grazed the buffet line at a gay wedding AND I got cake over at the AA meeting. No one caught on that I didn't belong there till the bitter end. I was taking trays of horse-dervys and pouring them into my pocket book when one of those guys wearing a silly hat with a tassel on it told me it was a private event with no women allowed. He went to get the hotel manager as I skedaddled out the back door, full and toting as much food as I could slip into the zip lock bags in my purse.

One more day before they hand out the government cheese but I think I have enough rumaki, mushroom puffs and cheese cubes sos that I never have to eat those scary vegetables tomorrow.

Piggums & Diet Tips

I spent this morning trolling the internet for dieting tips to get that Nazi Social Worker off my back. I'm still afraid to go into the kitchen anywhere near the refridgerator because I am afraid to be near vegatables.

There's all sorts of advice on the internet. There's even a hole bunch of contradicotry advice. One site said to stop eating and drink shakes. I wanted to try that but I cannot work out how you would lose weight considering a Mickey Dee's Triple Thick Chocolate shake in the largest size is at least 1160 calories each. They tell you to eat 4 shakes a day that is over 4400 calories in one day. Ain't gonna lose any weight.

It was hard chasing down L Anne Carrington weight loss tips and at first all I could find were some crappy articles about setting tables and how to have a book signing without sucking. Any book signing that didn't have food would suck anyhoo. Then I read she is a chocoholic so I figured I'd get some more of those Faygo diet chocolate cream sodas, but that would mean a trip back to the Piggly Wiggly. And Carol.

Carol loves Adam Lambert, who she keeps calling 'BB'. I named my cats for him after seeing him on Idol but Carol is all things Adam. I might get derailed from my diet duties if I stopped to talk again. Besides I need to call up the Piggly Wiggly first and see if they also have Xenadrine (L Anne recommendeded) or will I have to hit up Rite Aid.

I went to Walgreens and got Xenadrine, diet Dr Pepper, diet chocolates and new pair of flip flops for modivation when I smelled IT again. The IT was wonderful food, bbqed pig, dripping with succulent tangy bung barbeque sauce. There were tankards of creamy potato salad and macaroni salad slathered with gallons of mayonnaise! Coleslaw, buns, brownies, sauisages. I had a foodgasm right then and there before putting the Rascal in HIGH gear and hightailing over to the Kiwanis BBQ booth at the edge of the Piggly Wiggly parking lot.

With a days worth of hunger pulsing through my hot veins I snatched away a full go-box of the goodies from the hands of an elderly man wearing a silly hat. They stood there looking at me, all of them, as I rolled away like I was in the Indy 500 towards the wooded area behind my apartments. I knew it was wrong, I knew it was fattening but a force beyond my control took over and I ate that pork sandwich with sides and every bit of what was served up.

I was sad to note that I'd gotten barbeque sause all over my finest polyester muu-muu and flip flops. Tropical flowers with orange splashes of sause.

But I'm happy, happier than I've been in a coons age just to be full again. After the cops stop pounding on my door I'm going to put on a blindfold and clear all of those horrible health foods out of the fridge. I'll start this diet again tomorrow.

Veggietardians

Today was turrible!

I forgot to eat breakfast and by the time I remembered and got all hungry the only nearby food joint was Burger King. Asked for a Whopper with a fried egg on top for extra protein but the manager got all uppity, said they didn't do stuff like that. Figured I'd better go on down the road even if the battery in the old Rascal was getting weaker than Clay Aiken's handshake.

At least I had a little money today. After running over Esther's foot and waiting to hear if Marge was going to go to the big casino in the sky I went back to the community room and found a buncha change under the sofa cushions (plus Marge's purse, but no one has to know that, I'm just, ah, er, 'borrowing' the money) So I was in the money.

What to do, what to do, what would L Anne do? I felt peckish but I knew I didn't want a burger or taco, plus I'm trying so hard to diet. Thought about the deli counter at the Piggly Wiggly but I couldn't get near the place. Too bad, they have some mighty fine fried chicken. Some durn fool woman kept blocking the entrance, shouting and carrying a sign saying that Piggly Wiggly practiced discrimination against gay American Idols and their fans. She kept babbling about some gay man's penis, trying to hand me a home made CD and photo.

Then it hit me like a wall of hot studs trying to fill my tiny holes, I had to get on over to KFC and get a Double Down. It's all meat, it's protein and protein is supposed 'ta help you get skinny. It was de-lis-cious and they kind folks at KFC let me plug in my Rascal to recharge it before I returned to the apartments.

But when I got home there was a stranger waiting for me. I could just tell she and I were going to have some chicken bones to pick between us because she was the epitome of a stuck up skeleton whore. She had the nerve to follow me into my place and start lecturing me on nutrition. Turns out she's a social worker sent out by my Medicare doctor to make sure I'm dieting. She's my diet coach. She tells me if I don't cooperate with her I could lose my Medicare and my food stamps.

First, she wanted to know what I'd eaten today sos I told her, a Double Down, 3 Faygo chocolate diet cream sodas and nothing else. She pursed those thin dried out lips, nothing like my juicy luscious man-pleasing lips, and ordered me to stay away from fast food!!! Says that a Double Down ain't nothing but a slab of grease and fat.

She tells me I have to be eating mostly vegetables, not even fried, but FRESH!!! I tried to explain to her that I'm frightened of vegetables to the point where I cannot even be in the same room as them.. I'm allergic to vegetables. But this bitch is havin' none of that. She goes through my fridge and throws things out, even my Mountain Dew!

After she stripped my house of anything worth eating she took me back down to the Piggly Wiggly and bought all kinds of nasty, tasteless things with my food stamps. Rice cakes? Bah! They taste like hockey pucks.

I'm breaking out in big old welts just thinking about the fact that only a thin door of steel separates me from vegetables. I'm gonna starve!

Caked

I be done in. I haven't lost an ounce all week and it's the fault of all those swanky skeleton whores in the community room of my apartment complex.

Minding my own business riding my rascal along the cement walkways when this delightfully beguiling smell assaulted my nostrils. It was coming from the community room. Esther, Ethel and Marge were playing Canasta and had a coffee cake sitting on the side board. Those hateful skinny whores had only taken a few slices out of it, that seductive temptress was calling my name, white icing oozing like milky white ropes of cum while the cinnamon innards begged me to lasciviously tongue it. 

Before I knew what had happened I had rolled over Esther's foot, knocked over the card table and grabbed that cake, all dozen slices or so and make my gooey escape. Too bad about Marge, she hit the floor, something about a heart attack I heard later. Ethel told the police I barged in and stold their cake and beat up on all of them but couldn't prove a thing.

Tried to get the nice young officer to stay and pet my pussies but he said he was too busy. He left after warning me to stay away from other peoples food and feet. Everyone at the apartment complex is treating me like I'm a criminal.

Never Get Between Me & Food

Still closer and closer to uppity skeleton whore sized. I've lost down to 345 now.

However I've had to kick puppies and shout at little kids to deal with the hostility I feel. I better ask the doctor for xanax because with my diet related mood swings I'm liable to deliberately run over skeleton whores with my Rascal. Just like I did my cat, poor George Clooney.

It's his fault, he refused to get out the way of my Rascal the moment the microwave dinged it was done with my dietetic dinner. The apartment complex would not let me bury him in the courtyard so I had to peel his flatten body off the linoleum,  wrap him in a green plastic garbage bag. I stuck him in the freezer for now till I figure out what to do with. I just hope I forget and accidentally fish his hair carcass out of the freezer thinking it's rabbit.

When I get down to 300 or under I'm going to have to start an exercise program. I'm considering what L Anne did, put a personal ad on the escort pages and get guys to pay to have sex with me. That way I can make some moolah while I'm working out. My Fashion Bug credit card account is getting too high and I gotta find a way to pay it off. SSI check doesn't stretch far enough and Fashion Bug doesn't take food stamps as payment.

Day 4

After reading the thrilling journey from swanky plus size model to skinny skeleton whore writer of  L Anne Carrington I decided the best way I could pay tribute to my favorite writer was to diet like she does. I started out at 367 pounds and after three months I'm down to 352 pounds.

I cannot get a series of gastic bypasses like L Anne because my Medicare don't cover it but I can use her weight loose tricks.

Things I've learned from L Anne Carrington to help me lose.

Sprite and sodas have sugers so don't drink more than a one liter a day.
Don't eat off other people's plates, especially celebrities.
Don't ride your rascal when you could walk to loss weight.
Charging strange men for sex can burn off calories.

Gotta go, gotta go feed my cats Spanky, Adam, Glam and George Clooney!