Fat Bottom Girl Said What

When my ass talks, people listen.

Archive for the month “March, 2015”

Love Hostages

Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn’t it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses. You build up a whole armor, for years, so nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life… You give them a piece of you. They didn’t ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn’t your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like ‘maybe we should be just friends’ or ‘how very perceptive’ turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It’s a soul-hurt, a body-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. Nothing should be able to do that. Especially not love. I hate love.

—Rose Walker, in “The Sandman”

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.

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