Fat Bottom Girl Said What

When my ass talks, people listen.

Archive for the tag “twitter”

10,000 Roses = 220,000 Meals

I dared to voice an opinion on Twitter today regarding Jay-Z, and quickly learned he has some sort of posse just waiting in the wings to jump to his defense.

What did I say that drew the ire of so many that I had to block people and delete the tweet?

I merely stated that instead of spending money on 10,000 roses for Beyonce, that he should have given the money to charity.

The hell you say!!  How dare you!

Don’t you know he donated $1.5 million to charity?

Okay, that’s great.  High five.

Of course, when you and your wife are worth a combined $1 billion, what’s $1.5 million? It’s a drop in the bucket, and charitable donations are tax write-offs.

However, what I said had nothing to do with Jay-Z’s record of charitable giving, because I’ve never researched it fully and there doesn’t seem to be much online information regarding total numbers, and it didn’t attack his character, but it seems that’s the way it was taken.

You see, when I saw the news article, my mind started clicking, thinking about the cost of that many roses.

I quickly did some calculations, because this is how my mind works:

10,000 roses x approx $2 per stem = $20,000

$1 = 11 meals at Feeding America x 20,000 = 220,000 meals

That’s full bellies for 220,000 kids instead of 10,000 roses which have probably already started to droop and die.

So to all the haters who I had to block because they thought they needed to be derogatory and call me names, and tell me to “shut the fuck up” as opposed to starting a discourse, I’m sure Jay-Z will stop by your house any day now to thank you personally, and you can bask in the glory of defending him from little ‘ol me, better known now as the “lonely bitch”.

I will continue to stand by my belief that $20,000 could’ve been used in a much more productive way.

 

 

 

 

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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.

Work Desk Confessions of Being a Triflin’ Ho

There’s something I must confess. I’m a bit of a whore. Or as I like to call it, a “hoor”. It’s pronounced like this hoo-er.

Don’t misunderstand, I’m a totally faithful girlfriend! I’m not saying I’m that kind of a hoor. It’s worse.

I’m an attention hoor. There it is. Right there in black and white.

My name’s Fat Bottom Girl, and I’m an attention hoor.

Man it’s good to get that out there in the open. I know you never would’ve been able to tell I was an attention hoor if I hadn’t just come out and told you.

Oh, you knew? What gave me away?? The fact I’m a blogger?

Seriously, if you blog, you’ve got to admit you’ve probably got a little attention hoor lurking in you too. Even if like me, you’re anonymous and don’t reveal yourself on your blog, your little tiny attention hoor inside is being fed by clicks and comments.

I feed my attention hoor here and on my personal Facebook account. And Twitter. And now Tumblr. Bloody fucking hell, where will it stop??

But here’s the problem. I fucking hate Facebook. I hate the religious crap, I hate the political crap, I hate the 100 selfies some people feel the need to share of themselves in bikinis because they need to feed the really big attention hoor inside them, I hate the re-shares of stupid shit that was popular two years ago, I hate people’s need to profess their love for their spouse on there as opposed to fucking walking across the room to the Barcolounger their husband’s lazy ass is sitting in with the Natty Light can in their hand and fucking telling them in person, I hate pictures of the fucking goulash you had for dinner, or pictures of the guy with the clap-trot dick rot disease who would be healed if he gets a million likes.

Fuck. It’s exhausting. It’s just fucking exhausting. I don’t want to do it anymore. I want to take it off my phone. I want to shut it down. I want to walk away from it and not worry about missing out on somebody’s kid doing their first big girl doodle in the princess potty.

I just want to be done with Facebook.

But I can’t. Because sometimes, Facebook feeds my attention hoor. Sometimes if I’m feeling especially bloated and unloved, I can get dolled up in my attention hoor makeup and post a selfie and get morsels to fill me up. I can post pics of a project I’ve done and get kudos for being a chick and knowing how to use power tools.

I’m an addict and I can’t stop.

Why can’t MySpace be cool again??

Another Tweet

Note to self: Just because the last three guys were dirty cake fuckers, doesn’t mean this one is. This guy could just like cake, and not actually have to fuck it.

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