Fat Bottom Girl Said What

When my ass talks, people listen.

Archive for the month “December, 2014”

Tempered Glass

Posted on my Poetry/Prose sight The Fat Bottom Bard

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

trying

to live

and exist

and find love

in the chaos

of our creation

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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!

Sincerely,

Fat Bottom Girl

Large Derriered Female

 

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Sparklebumps: The Mother Version

Still histrionic, still a bookwhore; just faking competence because of my kid.

I invite you to read my short novel below.

May the novel bring you inspiration in your daily ruminations.

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