I've been in jail. The baloney and dried cheese sammiches have been making me fatter.
I'll explain more tomorrow. Apparently I'm a 'danger to the community' and a sexual predator according to the gym.
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
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.
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
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
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.
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.
Monday, March 28, 2011
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.
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.
Sunday, March 27, 2011
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?
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?
Saturday, March 26, 2011
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.
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.
Friday, March 25, 2011
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.
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.
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