Now, these skimpy-dressed, non-tipping fatties certainly don't solely corrupt strip clubs. Oh no. Check your local bar that plays some hip hop with a dance floor on any given Thursday night and I swear, girl scouts are unfortunately in for curfew and can't capitalize on this obvious target audience, and much like R. Kelly, I sympathize with those ten-year-olds and want them to get theirs. Bar-hoppin' girls so fat, they can't possibly bathe without having to use a hammock and a pool cue, and that's after it takes two construction workers to get their heels on because for the past seven years they've eaten chocolate like Oprah at Buddy Squirrel with a gift certificate. Hey, seriously, next time you see these three at the club, ask yourself how many cans of Spam caused that trifecta of an atrocity, because ultimately, I'm betting they're the only three who make this joke of mine work.
Ya know what the punch line to all this is? While those chicks are at the bar together, each one of their black boyfriends are at a strip club trying to run some lame-ass game on a broad I just put on stage. That's the funniest part. Man, it's one thing to finger a fine broad, pull it out and look at the white discharge in disbelief that she doesn't believe cleanliness is next to Godliness, but to practically have a billboard telling you that something resembling Elmer's Glue is going to leave a ring around your root while you drill that rhino is fucked up. Totally fucked.
And just so this is clear, despite what porno you watch, how much money you have, or even if you're famous, there is no woman on the planet who sucks a dick for the simple fact that she likes it. There will always be an ulterior motive behind her lips touching the root of your shaft back and forth, and that's okay, whether it be your affection, money, attention, tolerance, because she needs drugs, or simply because she doesn't have a place to live right now . . . she's getting reimbursed in some way. My point is, fat chicks only suck your dick so good because they have to in order to earn those extra couple points of your tolerance level, AKA your acknowledgement of her existence.
Baby, we simply view it as nursing whether it be your appetite or your (cough) ego, which I would imagine has atrophied over the years, so naturally you'll take attention where you can get it.
Fuck President's, Flag, Groundhog, and even Martin Luther King Jr. Day. Make one, and I mean just one day where you suckling heifers are allowed to leave your huts, Jabba. Preferably the first Sunday in February . . . All right, and maybe the last Thursday in November, least that way everyone else with your last name can get some fucking turkey.
Cheers. Here's to all the fatties out there who are being ignored even for 'before' picture ads, which presumably aren't in either of these books.
Next time I walk into Ponderosa I'll make sure I'm euthanized a half-hour prior so at least the cataract in my dead eyes won't allow your physique to haunt my rotting corpse. Please do the same before walking into a club, especially one I work at. I don't care if it takes a serated blade and some elbow greece to kill yourselves, just do it. Holy balls. Or just click your heels together three times and say 'the bakery' instead of 'home' and try to stay away from fine women, particularly if they're on stage. Customers come in to see her up there and fantasize, but instead the eyesore that is you simply reminds them of what's at home, morons.
Hoping you stay at home next time . . .
Z.
E-mail:embittered@catharticlament.com
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