Fat Bottom Girl Said What

It's not about the ass, it's about the attitude!

Cult Followings

How in the hell am I supposed to amass a cult following if I have no followers??  Seriously people, where did all my stalkers go?

What’s that?  You said I basically dropped off the face of the earth during this last year and didn’t post on regular basis so you all abandoned this fat bottom ship?

Okay, I see how you are.

Well, I’m back.  At least for now.  I’ll be here when the feeling hits me

I’ve promised myself I won’t worry about stats, even though obviously I do because I hate not having any followers.  Doesn’t every writer want to be wildly popular?  Seriously, if you didn’t care you wouldn’t have a fucking blog, so you might as well be honest about being an attention whore.

So in the spirit of attention whoring, here’s something I want you to do–follow me on Twitter at @fatbottomgirl1.  The one is because I’m the fucking original, and all the others are just imitations

I tweet some hilarious shit, it’s just that no one ever reads it.  If you don’t follow me, here’s some of the shit you’ve missed:

I wore all black to work the other day.  Boss asked if I had a funeral.  I told him yes, a little piece of me dies each day I come there.

What’s the big deal about a thigh gap?  If I stand around with my legs spread I have a fucking thigh gap too.

Found out an ex-bf’s wife is now a photographer.  Let’s hope she can photoshop him a bigger penis.

My hands smell like Vaseline and bacon.  I must be at a sex party with really good snacks.

Your average Kansas bar is basically Walmart with beer.

On a pessimism scale I’m a cat.  Regardless of how much anything there is, my bowl is always half full.

Why does all corned beef in a can come from Argentina? Is that the only place beef is cornable?

46 quickly approaches making bifocals a necessity for all close-up work, even blow jobs.

Hobby Lobby’s so  holy roller it makes me feel like the ultimate atheist sinner when I shop there.

For some reason I feel like this day was a total waste of pants.

Beware men who write under a pseudonym. But mostly who live life under one.

Can deep throat a 10′ dick but gags while trying to brush the back of her tongue. #pornstarproblems

You should actually get out of your marriage before getting into. . . .another woman’s vagina.

If Bartles & James is more appreciative of your support than your current SO, you might be in the wrong relationship.

Revenge is a dish best served. . . .with wine. Lots of wine.

An Ode to 80’s Lust (I so would’ve done you in high school)

MMI see you looking at me out of the corner of your eye mullet man. 

Watch me light my Satin cigarette, being careful not to catch my meticulously coiffed mile high bangs on fire with the cheap Pump Mart lighter whose flame can’t be controlled. 

You should know I’m just like this cheap Pump Mart lighter because my flame can’t be controlled either.  I burn bright and hot. 

And I look hot too, in these pink and black checked Zena jeans with the black bandana tied around my wrist.

I know you noticed the bandana as I tipped up my Bartles & Jaymes wine cooler to take a sip. 

I can tell just by looking at you, in your glued on 501’s and Motley Crue t-shirt and high top tennis shoes, that if we get together our relationship would play out like a Bon Jovi ballad. 

Strut those tight pants over here

and kiss me with your Mickey’s Big Mouth breath before I change my mind

and take a walk on the preppy side with the guy in the polo with the popped collar.

Tempered Glass

Fat Bottom Girl:

Posted on my Poetry/Prose sight The Fat Bottom Bard

Originally posted on The Fat Bottom Bard:

And who are you to throw stones

from your glass house on high

no better

or worse

or different

than the rest of the masses

who are merely


to live

and exist

and find love

in the chaos

of our creation

View original

An Open Letter to Charities

I’m writing this from an undisclosed location.  I’ve had to go into hiding.  I feel like a good fella who’s had to move to the ‘burbs and change his name from Bobby 3 Balls to Larry Smith.

It’s not because my blog has gotten wildly popular overnight. (How can you call 4 readers wildly popular?)  I’m on the down-low due to (gasp) charitable donations.

Little did I know that a couple of $20 donations, to try to put a stop to the Sarah McLachlan simpering, would result in some sort of stalkerfest!

I love animals, and thought I was doing a good thing by donating money to charities which help animals, but had no idea how quickly things would escalate after I mailed that check.

Before I knew it, guilt gifts galore started showing up in my mailbox–calendars, wrapping paper, address labels, Xmas cards, and even a pair of socks.

Socks??  Were the socks supposed to remind me there are little puppies and kittens wandering around out there with cold toes?

Here’s the thing, your gifts don’t guilt me.  Your gifts make me wonder why you use the money I send you to turn around and send me a bunch of cheap crap instead of using it to help the animals?

How many cats and dogs could you feed with the money you spent to make those labels and that pair of socks?  Could you spay or neuter one or two with the numerous calendars you’ve sent?  I imagine you probably could, and that makes me a bit angry.

So this is what I’m going to do.  First, I’m changing my name and going into the witness protection program so I’ll stop getting your solicitations, and second, I’m going to start donating to local charities.  At the most, I think they’ll only send me a letter once a year asking for a donation, and I’m okay with that.  A letter once a year is more like a gentle reminder, as opposed to stalking someone numerous times throughout the year.

So you can keep your crap wrapping paper and tell Sarah McLachlan to shut her pie hole because she makes my kid cry with that shit!


Fat Bottom Girl

Large Derriered Female


Cougars, Cookies and Construction by Jack Chaser

Fat Bottom Girl:

At last! Tomorrow is the day!! Do yourself a favor and go get a copy of this book. But it for your significant other and it will get you laid! Okay, maybe I made that part up. It might get you laid. And really, for only $4.99, it’s cheaper than dinner and drinks.

Originally posted on Fat Bottom Girl Said What:

It’s no secret I love me some Jack Chaser.  Okay, well maybe it is.  I’ve never actually come out and said it, but I most definitely have inferred it, and I think I might even have given him some sort of implied mental reach-around through lavish oral praise in a comment thread or two.

But let me get to my point!  JACK HAS A BOOK!! JACK HAS A BOOK!

Lucky bastard. Secretly I’m doing a little happy (tap) dance for him, because it just goes to show that with talent, hard work, dedication, and a few quick blow jobs, it is possible to publish a book!


Jack’s first book, Cougars, Cookies and Construction, the Kindle version, is being released on December 8th, 2014, mere days away! (Print version soon to follow for those of you still paper dedicated.)

I was fortunate enough to get my hands on IT (the book…

View original 314 more words

Cougars, Cookies and Construction by Jack Chaser

It’s no secret I love me some Jack Chaser.  Okay, well maybe it is.  I’ve never actually come out and said it, but I most definitely have inferred it, and I think I might even have given him some sort of implied mental reach-around through lavish oral praise in a comment thread or two.

But let me get to my point!  JACK HAS A BOOK!! JACK HAS A BOOK!

Lucky bastard. Secretly I’m doing a little happy (tap) dance for him, because it just goes to show that with talent, hard work, dedication, and a few quick blow jobs, it is possible to publish a book!


Jack’s first book, Cougars, Cookies and Construction, the Kindle version, is being released on December 8th, 2014, mere days away! (Print version soon to follow for those of you still paper dedicated.)

I was fortunate enough to get my hands on IT (the book, I’m talking about the book, get your damn minds out of the gutter) before all of you, since I have agreed to give him numerous private lap dances and let him spank my fat bottom anytime he so chooses, happen to be a close, personal friend of Jack’s in that alternate world I will refer to as “real life”.

Let me tell you something, after an agonizingly long wait, and months of temptation, getting my hands on IT, was totally worth it!

If any of you follow Jack and his tales of construction cavorting on his blog, The Things I See Up Here, you know what I’m talking about.  The man has moved me to tears more than once, snort laughs numerous times, and had me running to the bathroom to  rid my bladder of some morning coffee before it spilled out in a fit of guffaws onto my office chair.

Because seriously, how can you go wrong?  It’s got it all!  Guaranteed nuggets of life wisdom, interwoven with the word “fuck” which is music to my ears, dildos, poop, puke, and numerous other topics I find exceedingly funny.  What more could you want??

And since it’s almost Xmas, there’s no better way to let the men in your life, and your crude Aunt Martha, know you love them than heading over to Amazon and ordering a copy of Cougars, Cookies and Construction up for them for the holiday!

So my Fat Bottom Girl stalkers, inhale this book like it’s  a cold boot of Canadian beer, or savor it like it’s the last Hostess fruit pie you might ever taste, either way, when you’re done enjoying it, be sure and help a fellow writer out and leave a review on Amazon and Goodreads.  Jack will appreciate it, and I will too, since I’m planning on riding his coattails on this thing, and hoping this book funds us a mid-winter tropical vacation.








Do I look like I work here??

I figured out some time ago, that I’m “that person”.  I guess I have “that sort of face”.  The sort of face which makes everyone think I magically know where every item is located in Walmart, and that I want to know all the intimate details of their life, even if I hardly know them.

Mind you, I’m not complaining, as this particular gift has served me well in certain circumstances; in the field of counseling I was educated in, as fodder for my blog, material for some future stand-up routine I might want to do.

The one area where it really comes in handy though, is in parenting!  Of course when you’re hearing the oft times Tourette’s like ramblings of a teenager, the spewed information you really want to know, i.e. sex, drugs, rock n’ roll, will periodically get peppered with bits of knowledge you might possibly have been able to survive without knowing.

The peppered bits of late:  pubic hair elimination.

Yes, you read it right.

Two times in the last month this particular topic of conversation has come up with my son, and my nieces.

I had taken my nieces, 15 and 13, out shopping with me one day, and the subject of shaving came up.  The older tells the younger she can’t believe their mother lets her shave her legs already, because she didn’t get to do that at her age.  In response the younger tells us there’s one thing she’s not going to be shaving anytime soon, and that’s her “hoo-hah”!  I cringed, but tried to recover quickly and told her I didn’t think she should concern herself with that at her age, and then tried to segue into another topic.

Last Saturday night I was on the phone with my son, chatting about school, and his upcoming Xmas visit, and how his step-sister leaving her hairbrush on his side of the sink really pisses him off, when all of a sudden he said, “Mom, I want you to know I’m going to shave it all off.”


I knew he couldn’t be talking about his beard, because at 14 he merely gets a few long hairs sprinkled in various locations around his face.

I said, “You’re going to shave what??”, already knowing what he was talking about.

“You know.”

Oh lord.  What happened to him never wanting to shave it, and going so far as to tell me one time that he wanted it to be “a veritable forest down there”??

I said the only thing I could think of:  “For Christ’s sakes don’t use a razor!!  Only use your trimmers! You don’t want to slice your weiner!”

Welcome to my world.








Keep Your Hands to Yourself

If you’ve read my blog for any length of time, you’re aware I’ve been involved in more than one relationship which has been abusive, be it either physically, psychologically, or both.  I prefer not to label myself as either a “victim” or a “survivor” of domestic violence.  I prefer to see myself as a scholar of life in general.  There have been times in my life when I have made poor choices about relationships, and I have learned many hard lessons, and have moved on to make better choices.  That’s all.

You might not think someone who has learned some of these particular life lessons might want to see any sort of violence, but when the now infamous video of Ray and Janay Rice surfaced this week, curiosity got the best of me and I watched it.  I watched it, and then I started reading everyone’s reaction to it, and then I got irritated.  The more I read the more irritated I got.

Did these people see the same video I saw?  It seemed that maybe they didn’t.  I didn’t see one “victim”.  No, I don’t see Janay as the victim in this as so many others seem to.

I can almost hear the collective “oh my gods” as I type that, and I realize by even writing this blog post I am subjecting myself to all kinds of criticism of my opinion, and even possible backlash, but obviously I’m still doing it, and I can, because this is my blog.

Let me tell you why I don’t take the same view as others have.

I have had vitriol spewed at me, I have had hands around my throat trying to choke the life out of me, I have been kicked and pushed and even had my face used as an ashtray, and never once, not one fucking time, even during states of inebriation, would I have thought to smack one of my abusers in the face, or spit at them, or taunt them with words.

That’s not proof that she’s not a victim of domestic violence, you might say.  But if getting punched in the elevator by Ray makes Janay a victim, why don’t her actions towards Ray make him a victim also?

You know why?  Perception.  Society seems to have an extremely skewed perception that men can’t be victims of domestic violence because they’re often taller, or more muscular than their spouse or significant other, they often make more money, and seem to have more power within the relationship.

But the way things seem to be isn’t always the way they are.  Statistics show 40% of domestic violence victims are men.  40%.  I would guess the actual number is probably higher than that, as most men are often embarrassed to come forward and admit they have suffered abuse from their partner because of the stigma attached to it.

In my own personal experience, I have seen my brother take being hit, scratched, having his clothes torn off him, and called names by his drunk high school girlfriend while he just stood there and took it.  I know other men who have suffered constant verbal abuse, and have been slapped and pushed, by girlfriends or wives, who never once even lifted a hand to defend themselves against these physical attacks, who have stayed in relationships for the same reason abused women do, because they made a vow, or for their kids, or because they’re too scared to leave for fear of what their partner would do if they did.

Am I saying Ray Rice is a victim of spousal abuse?  I can’t say for sure, but it appears to me Janay dishes out abuse to him also, just without the same physical result of the abuse he dished out to her.  It appears to me they have a very volatile and mutually abusive relationship, and I think it’s sad they feel the need to be in that type of relationship.

My point is this:  maybe it’s time to bring the subject of males suffering domestic violence out into the light, because it’s a reality.  It happens every day, and it’s very possible you know a man who’s suffering in silence right now.

Please take a minute to check out the following link, and watch the video. This is a hidden-camera experiment which was done to gauge reactions to violence.  The differences in onlookers’ reactions to man on woman violence, as opposed to woman on man violence is unbelievable, and to me quite sickening and inappropriate when it comes to seeing the female being abusive to the male.




No one, absolutely NO ONE should have to suffer abuse, be it physical or verbal!






All About That Bass

You had to know I would post it sooner or later.  How could I let this cute little ditty about big booties slip by?  And I can shake it, shake it too.  As a matter of fact, I was just shaking it around my kitchen last night to the Grease soundtrack while cooking supper.  As always, regardless of your booty size, find a little time every day to shake your boom boom because it’s good for the spirit.

Yeah, it’s pretty clear, I ain’t no size two
But I can shake it, shake it
Like I’m supposed to do
Cause I got that boom boom that all the boys chase
And all the right junk in all the right places

I see the magazines workin’ that Photoshop
We know that shit ain’t real
C’mon now, make it stop
If you got beauty beauty, just raise ‘em up
Cause every inch of you is perfect
From the bottom to the top

Yeah, my mama she told me don’t worry about your size
She says boys like a little more booty to hold at night
You know I won’t be no stick figure silicone Barbie doll
So if that’s what you’re into then go ahead and move along

Because you know I’m
All about that bass
‘Bout that bass, no treble
I’m all about that bass
‘Bout that bass, no treble
I’m all about that bass
‘Bout that bass, no treble
I’m all about that bass
‘Bout that bass

I’m bringing booty back
Go ahead and tell them skinny bitches that
No I’m just playing I know you think you’re fat
But I’m here to tell ya
Every inch of you is perfect from the bottom to the top

Tell Me Something Good

Do it.  I dare you.

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