<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265</id><updated>2011-11-20T09:02:21.084-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Stand up comedy, in the form of a blog... if you want to laugh, then keep on reading.</title><subtitle type='html'>I am a comic that thinks outside the box.. after everything is gone from inside it. I was born without that filter that keeps certain thoughts inside, and most times, it pops out at the worst moments.. its going to happen, so best be prepared for whatever is about to come out.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>99</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-2961455362269127073</id><published>2011-03-22T23:21:00.007-04:00</published><updated>2011-03-22T23:37:56.920-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Sexual Fantasies</title><content type='html'>Ever have a conversation that you have an idea on how its going to go, then all of a sudden, you realize, before I speak, I need to ask some questions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This happened to me a while ago, but I remember it like it was yesterday. I was sitting on the couch with my girlfriend, and she turned to me and said "Hey, why don't you tell me one of your sexual fantasies?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its a good thing that we talked about this cause we could not of been further apart from one another. I was thinking that hers was going to involve a specific place, time of year, maybe some romance and feelings, probably some candles or potpourri. Ok shut it, I read Cosmo!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mine are all about positions. I think I played this out pretty well. I got her to go first so I could see what I was dealing with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She said "I want to be in Rome on the first day of spring, listening to the church bells going off at sunset.. blah blah blah blah blah" I kind of trailed off but you get the picture.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then she said "ok, its your turn.. tell me one about me."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, great, if you will just look at my diagram that I have illustrated poorly with stick figures.... You take your right leg.... and put it out to your side, have your other leg at a 25 degree tilt...... so that there is no problem when we start with the whip cream and pudding. Stop talking and pay attention!! This is important, this is why we need your friend Erica!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-2961455362269127073?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/2961455362269127073'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/2961455362269127073'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2011/03/sexual-fantasies.html' title='Sexual Fantasies'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-6896104466003777146</id><published>2011-03-22T23:09:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-03-22T23:16:44.459-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Abrupt Breakups</title><content type='html'>Ok, so I guess the good news is I am almost over my ex. Just about to turn that corner.. If you must know, we have been broken up for 379 days.&lt;br /&gt;It was really sudden, almost like one day "happy" next day "happier".&lt;br /&gt;You spend all this time with someone and then suddenly nothing. Its almost like you should be able to treat the situation like a job and give two weeks notice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Something like "Ok. I just want you to know that I am putting in my two weeks notice.&lt;em&gt; &lt;/em&gt; I will just tie up some loose ends. I will get all my things together,.. oh, and I will train the new guy."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-6896104466003777146?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/6896104466003777146'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/6896104466003777146'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2011/03/abrupt-breakups.html' title='Abrupt Breakups'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-1389051127629498170</id><published>2011-03-15T00:16:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-03-15T00:30:00.451-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Beer</title><content type='html'>I think beer commercials are pointless. Beer is so good, and people want it soooo bad, that they can pretty much put what ever they want out there to make people want their product more, that can say pretty much whatever they want. Doesn't matter, cause people will keep buying it. No gimmick needed. The gimmicks they do have are so shitty anyways, its like, really? Whats the point!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Miller Lite is "Tastes Great, less filling"... awesome, I can drink more of this, cause it wont fill me up!! Bud Lite's new one is not even a real gimmick... its a totally made up word. "Drink-ability"..... whats that even mean? "You can drink this, and hopefully live... not like windshield washer fluid.. silly Indians!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No other companies can get away with that.... McDonalds can't be like "Buddup-bup-bup-baaaaaahhh YOU CAN EAT THIS!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because real companies need to put out real promises and real money back guarantees. I am pretty sure you will never hear a beer company come out with a guarantee.... but how cool would that be?&lt;br /&gt;"If your not completely satisfied with your Old Milwaukee, we will bail you out of jail, get your job back and unpunch your sister in the face! Old Milwaukee... It doesn't get any better than this!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-1389051127629498170?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/1389051127629498170'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/1389051127629498170'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2011/03/beer.html' title='Beer'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-6000031107482963985</id><published>2011-03-14T17:37:00.008-04:00</published><updated>2011-03-15T19:35:03.515-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Handycapped dick at the mall</title><content type='html'>So I was at the mall recently, and I saw this guy that was sitting coming left to right. I thought he was in a wheelchair right, and I felt a little bad for him, cause my grandfather is in a wheelchair.  But then I looked at him... and he wasn't one of these "handy capable" people... he was just a morbidly obese people that feels like riding around in a scooter cause he is just that lazy!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know, maybe he has a glandular problem that only lets him eat MacDonald's in packs of combo meals.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here is what happened.. As I was almost at the escalator, maybe a few paces from it, and I figured I would just let Mr. Lazy Bones pass me first, be polite.. and that's when this fucker just cut me off, and makes a wicked turn to get on the escalator.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are signs that say "&lt;strong&gt;No Scooters Allowed&lt;/strong&gt;". But the problem was now he is just blocking me from the escalator cause the turn was too tight, and the scooters turning radius sucks, and he didn't make it.. so now I am thinking "That's right tubby, just &lt;em&gt;beep beep beep&lt;/em&gt; yourself out of the way, and let those that can still walk use the electric stairs". Maybe you should find the freight elevator since those doors are probably bigger and you can pull donuts in the center of it like a handy capped NASCAR event.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;BUT NO FOLKS... THIS IS NOT A TRAGEDY!!! THIS IS A TALE OF HEROICS!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cause this man&lt;strong&gt; stood up&lt;/strong&gt;, out of his scooter, so I am thinking "Ok, you can walk, cool."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AND HE LIFTED IT UP, GOT ON THE ESCALATOR, CARRIED THIS CONTRAPTION TO THE TOP, PUT IT ON THE GROUND AND SPED OFF TO THE FOOD COURT!!&lt;br /&gt;I just hope this guy dies from a Blue Cheese overdose!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-6000031107482963985?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/6000031107482963985'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/6000031107482963985'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2011/03/handycapped-dick-at-mall.html' title='Handycapped dick at the mall'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-5651350639554486240</id><published>2011-03-13T23:34:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-03-13T23:58:28.600-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The one relationship that you never forget</title><content type='html'>Ever have that one relationship that just slowly keeps building and building into that one gigantic reason to break up?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The one I am referring to was probably the worst relationship I was ever in, but seemed to go on for ever, and ever and ever...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She always asked questions that made no sense.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First of all we lived together.. Just got moved in, and she turned to me and was like `We should get a HDTV, what do you think?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a stigmatizm to light, and wear glasses, she has a lazy eye.. we dont even SEE in HD!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is the same girl that sitting on the couch turned to me and said "We should talk about our sexual fantasies!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay.. you go first. I want to know what I am dealing with.&lt;br /&gt;So she said "Well, sometimes I fantasize about you being more muscular"&lt;br /&gt;To which I said "Sometimes I fantasize about you not being such a judgemental bitch!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess I couldnt really get mad at her though.. right... she did want to talk about it. How mad can I be though, my top 20 fantasies didn't even envolve her... #6 doesnt even involve ME for crying out loud!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What ended out relationship though was our relationship in the bedroom. She used to blurt out random shit in the bedroom. Not like dirty talking, ok, just totally random conversation. The first time it happened, we were right into it right, and she just blurts out "Why dont you ever see any homeless women?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Umm am I doing something wrong here? Really, no "ohhh right there" or "yeah yeah yeah yeah" but Homeless Women...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last time we had sex, like I mean really, the LAST TIME we had sex.. we were right in the middle of sex... yeah about three minutes in... and she blurts out "Ohhhh you have hands like my dad!"&lt;br /&gt;"Yeah.. well you have lips like your sister!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-5651350639554486240?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/5651350639554486240'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/5651350639554486240'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2011/03/one-relationship-that-you-never-forget.html' title='The one relationship that you never forget'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-4715430923340785789</id><published>2011-02-10T02:00:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-02-10T21:13:39.427-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Valentines Day</title><content type='html'>Its that time of year again.. that time where MY favorite holiday is right around the corner... thats right, beats out Christmas, Halloween,... My Birthday, not that its on a holiday but still.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Valentines day!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I know what your thinking, "Really, your FAVORITE holiday.." and my answer is YES!! YES!! OH GOD YES!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The reason its my favorite holiday, is that I started a tradition with a friend of mine.. we go to Walmart the day of, and pick up a few packs of the grade school valentines that first and second graders give out, you know, that have Scooby Doo on them, or Sponge Bob Square Pants, and then,.. we head down to a strip club.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone wants a valentine right, and besides, Strippers are people too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never thought it would work, but let me tell you... Johnny Depp could have been on the other side of the stage making it rain hundred dollar bills, would not have made a difference.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had every stripper that hit the stage over by us...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stippers opening cards with Scooby Doo on the outside saying "I LOVE YOU"&lt;br /&gt;and shaggy on the inside all "ZOINKS!! TOO BAD YOUR DAD DIDNT!!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-4715430923340785789?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/4715430923340785789'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/4715430923340785789'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2011/02/valentines-day.html' title='Valentines Day'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-8304509633570929895</id><published>2011-01-17T17:07:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-01-17T17:21:50.048-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Bras are getting out of hand</title><content type='html'>I think Bras are getting out of hand, or maybe is it just me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not saying we should get rid of them as a whole, ok, I am just saying that its getting a little carried away with itself. Half the time you take a girls bra off, 2 inches of her boobs just went with it, like What the hell!!`&lt;br /&gt;I can`t get away with doing that, I can walk in here with a 10 inch weiner down my pants.&lt;br /&gt;Girls would be like `Holy crap, look at the crotch on that guy!`&lt;br /&gt;Then you take me home, I pull it out, and throw it behind me.&lt;br /&gt;Oh that, that's just for support. If I don't wear a 10 inch weiner down my pants, my back kills me the next day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really don't care about big boobs, ok, its an honesty issue. Its why I like ass.. cause ass is honest.&lt;br /&gt;Cause what you see is what your going to get. At least up until recently. Cause now they have panties with ass inserts, so now you can fake an ass!&lt;br /&gt;And that should be illegal!&lt;br /&gt;And I will tell you this now.. I don't care how hot, and sexy you are, or how close I am to fucking you I am getting... If I pull your ass off,.. I am tapping out!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-8304509633570929895?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/8304509633570929895'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/8304509633570929895'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2011/01/bras-are-getting-out-of-hand.html' title='Bras are getting out of hand'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-4064182523746580514</id><published>2011-01-08T01:22:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-01-08T01:33:09.459-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Staying in a hotel</title><content type='html'>I was in Kingston performing a few weeks ago, and when I was done the late show, got back to the hotel, and got into bed, it was a little after 2am... I had set up the wake up call for 10, which gave me an hour or so to get up and get out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I woke up at approx 7:26am... and I say approx because I am not sure how close to the real time the clocks are in a hotel room. It was not the wake up call I had requested from the front desk.. It was to the banging on the wall behind my head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You see.. I woke up to the sound of two people having sex. I am not going to go into details, ok,.. but I will say, that they were very, very good. I turned on my tv to try and distract myself from what was going on behind me... but it was soo good, that I tried to listen for pointers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When they were done, I thought I might have been pregnant.... yeah, it was off the chain, and I think there was a bit of Bible study going on, as there was alot of talking to God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now the awkward part happened when I was leaving my room. See it was an old style hotel,.. where you still had a REAL key.. so I am in the process of locking my door as I am leaving, and the couple came out at the same time that was having the porn rehearsal behind my head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only difference between my leaving my room, and them leaving theirs?? Is that there was only ONE man leaving my room.. and there was two leaving theirs.. no women..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How weird did I feel knowing I "rubbed one out" thinking of this hot couple going at it, then realizing it was not at all what I thought in my mind.&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I share too much with you guys on here!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-4064182523746580514?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/4064182523746580514'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/4064182523746580514'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2011/01/staying-in-hotel.html' title='Staying in a hotel'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-8111156102133435391</id><published>2010-12-23T15:27:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-12-23T15:43:42.226-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Growing up with a Military Dad</title><content type='html'>Anyone grow up in a military family? That was hard.. listening to your father and then having other people try to teach you the opposite cause its their job...&lt;br /&gt;My dad would scare us into listening to him... "Now look!! Take care of your shit son!"&lt;br /&gt;Thats hard to comprehend when your 5. I am standing there infront of him like "Umm I did.. I flushed!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No, you take care of your stuff, shine it up, keep it in good working condition, and put it away.. and if its not there in the morning, then its your fault its missing. Got IT!?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then you go to daycare and your teacher is teaching you to share.. share your things Brad... Thats what we do, this is the sharing place... ok... great... the all of a sudden my Baby Blue #21 crayon went missing out of my 64 box.. All of a sudden it turned into a scene from full metal jacket..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"THESE ARE MY CRAYONS.. THERE ARE MANY LIKE THEM BUT THESE ONES ARE MINE! THESE CRAYONS ARE MY BEST FRIEND. THEY ARE MY LIFE. WITHOUT ME MY CRAYONS ARE USELESS! WITHOUT THEM, I AM USELESS"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Brad, get off the desk!! And no recess for you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its ok, during nap time, two of the kids put all my crayons in a sock, and beat the shit out of me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-8111156102133435391?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/8111156102133435391'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/8111156102133435391'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2010/12/growing-up-with-military-dad.html' title='Growing up with a Military Dad'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-2194471479602448452</id><published>2010-12-23T15:03:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-12-23T15:27:28.651-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Dating a teacher</title><content type='html'>So I am dating a teacher now.. &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;that's&lt;/span&gt; working out pretty well. Its a bit &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;weird&lt;/span&gt; dating a preschool teacher, she is really weird about it too.. we were partying really hard one night, and I got sick, ended up throwing up,... all she did was cover it with sawdust, and give me a graham cracker.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hell after the first time we had sex she put a gold star on my penis.... she said it was playing well with others.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She threw me for a loop the other night.... she turned to me while we were watching TV, and said Can we talk about our sexual fantasies?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You go first."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well sometimes I &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;fantasies&lt;/span&gt; about you being a little more muscular..."&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;mmmm&lt;/span&gt; well,.. sometimes... I &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;fantasies&lt;/span&gt; about you being less of a judgemental bitch."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cant be too mad at her can I? I mean, after all, my top 20 &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;fantasies&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; even involve her.&lt;br /&gt;Number 7 &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;doesn't&lt;/span&gt; even involve me!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-2194471479602448452?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/2194471479602448452'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/2194471479602448452'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2010/12/dating-teacher.html' title='Dating a teacher'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-8886337338947333075</id><published>2010-11-06T04:15:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-11-06T04:26:28.900-04:00</updated><title type='text'>My Dr's Note</title><content type='html'>Sooo I woke up yesterday and had a shocking discovery.. I found a lump on my left gonad. Yeah,..&lt;em&gt;  &lt;/em&gt;I was scared!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I went to the doctors office, and after a little "examination" or as I call it "stranger touching me in the dirty place", he explained to me that it was not cancerous, or something to be worried about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I had was an inflamed Epididymits. I had no idea what that was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, he explained to me that the Epididymits is the tube that carries my sperm from my testicles,  to my penis,.. to the inside of my boxer shorts....&lt;br /&gt;I wondered how that got there!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He said it comes from having some pressure, so to relieve said pressure, he said that I am going to have to relieve that pressure.. so I am going to have to masturbate,.. about three to four times a day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said "Umm Doc,.... can I get that in writing??"&lt;br /&gt;How cool would that be to have a doctors note to masturbate!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-8886337338947333075?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/8886337338947333075'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/8886337338947333075'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2010/11/my-drs-note.html' title='My Dr&apos;s Note'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-5452912695585930285</id><published>2010-11-06T04:04:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-11-06T04:15:49.600-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Pot vs Drinking</title><content type='html'>I came to a realization tonight, that drinking leads to bad decisions, and pot,.. leads to making fun of people that drink and make bad decisions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went out with my friends one night, was not drinking, decided to "enlighten" my evening with a little pot.. while all my friends were just drinking alcohol.&lt;br /&gt;The next day,... I asked one of them that came out "Hey man, what happened last night?"&lt;br /&gt;His responce was "Ohhh, you remember that ugly chick at the end of the bar.. we kind of made fun of her at one point.. yeah.. well,.. I just kept drinking untill she wasnt ugly any more!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Really... gees.. I could be stoned out of my mind.. ugly chick at the end of the bar... still ugly!! Probably uglier, cause now that mole on her face would be all talking to me.. yeah, not sleeping with the ugly mole chick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I might,.. MIGHT, get a handy from the mole, but only for a story for poker night.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-5452912695585930285?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/5452912695585930285'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/5452912695585930285'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2010/11/pot-vs-drinking.html' title='Pot vs Drinking'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-4165872049814504540</id><published>2010-11-06T03:54:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-11-06T03:58:47.870-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Speaking should not be allowed during sex.</title><content type='html'>I think that there should be a law that prohibits speaking.. like actual conversation, during sex.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember I was in bed with a woman one time, shut up, its believable... and she said the most randomly inappropriate things when we were getting it on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first time it happened, she said "Hey,.. how come you never see homeless women?"&lt;br /&gt;Ummm, am I doing something wrong?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last time we were having sex, right in the middle of it,.. like getting right at it, she turned to me and said "Wow, you have hands like my dad!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I kinda ruined the relationship,... cause all I could say back to that was "Well,.. I guess thats ok, cause you have lips like your sister!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-4165872049814504540?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/4165872049814504540'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/4165872049814504540'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2010/11/speaking-should-not-be-allowed-during.html' title='Speaking should not be allowed during sex.'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-4405310801147237440</id><published>2010-10-31T19:16:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-31T19:28:24.051-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Halloween is tough for some people</title><content type='html'>I only found this out, in Ontario, if your a registered sex offender, you are not allowed to open your door to trick or treaters. Which is a good law,.. but it got me thinking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your not enough of a "social outcast" in the neighborhood already,.. now your the dick that doesn't give out candy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Isn't Halloween just "entrapment" for registered sex offenders?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is this person just rocking himself sane, in his darkened house,  when all of a sudden there is a knock at the door and when he opens it there are five power rangers lined up before him?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hey, Children of Canada, don't ever take candy from strangers.... OH! That is.. unless it is Night. You walk to their house. And you are in Costume!!"  Then its a fabulous idea!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hello,.. I represent Mixed Messages!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-4405310801147237440?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/4405310801147237440'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/4405310801147237440'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2010/10/halloween-is-tough-for-some-people.html' title='Halloween is tough for some people'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-5159079742556963036</id><published>2010-10-31T19:12:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-31T19:15:52.408-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Halloween "Scary House"</title><content type='html'>Want to be remembered on your street for having the best scary house at halloween.. this is what you do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First, go out and get the best candy, not the shitty candy corn or the tootsie rolls.. but the good stuff, Chips, big chocolate bars, you know what I am talking about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, when the door bell rings, you go to the door, and wait for a total of about 10 kids to get there.. open the door, and tell them "You want this big bowl of candy,.. all you have to do is make it thru the "Scary house".. and let them wonder into your home...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In one corner, have a cage with a kid trapped in it already and when some kid first notices that there is someone in the cage, thats when the kid in the cage yells "ITS A TRAP!! GET OUT OF THE HOUSE!! THERE IS NO CANDY!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You will never be forgotten.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-5159079742556963036?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/5159079742556963036'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/5159079742556963036'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2010/10/halloween-scary-house.html' title='Halloween &quot;Scary House&quot;'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-4553818243620249783</id><published>2010-10-29T00:13:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-29T00:25:56.324-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Free Therapy</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;I just recently learned this,.. and am so happy that I did, cause it is saving me TONS of cash.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I didn't know that when a telemarketer calls you, they are not allowed to hang up on you.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Swear to god, they are not ALLOWED to hang up on you.. you know what that means?? You can just talk, about anything, and they are stuck there. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I don't even pay for therapy anymore. All I ever needed was a willing ear, which just so happens to be what they are looking for too.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Its a win win if you ask me.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I'm like "You called me,.. Lets go!"&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Don't get me wrong, they will try to steer you back to the magazine subscriptions.. But I keep them on track! &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;"Whats that? You have issues? Ohhh honey,..I have issues....."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;All I want to do is keep them on the phone as long as possible, cause if I am on the phone with them, that means my creditors can't get thru!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;The guy from Bell called me the other day, and he was telling me about "The most HD channels than any other company, and with this particular package, you get over 200 channels!"&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I was like "Really,...... Name them?  Slowly,.. I am writing these down."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-4553818243620249783?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/4553818243620249783'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/4553818243620249783'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2010/10/free-therapy.html' title='Free Therapy'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-4476306133457689032</id><published>2010-10-28T19:32:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-28T19:46:29.866-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Nature Shows...</title><content type='html'>I love watching nature shows... you can really learn &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;alot&lt;/span&gt; from them.&lt;br /&gt;There was one on Blue Whales,.. very interesting.. I did not know this, the Blue Whale mates for life.&lt;br /&gt;Did not know that.&lt;br /&gt;I also did not know this.. that when the male Blue Whale ejaculates, it ejaculates 400 gallons of &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;semen&lt;/span&gt;... on average.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;400 gallons.... However, only ten percent makes it into its mate... So if your wondering why the ocean is salty....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, did not know this.. for &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;woman's&lt;/span&gt; facial cosmetics.... 80% of all facial cosmetics contain as little as "trace" whale &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;semen&lt;/span&gt; in them...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think that is a bit of a double standard.. cause when I ask women to put MY &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;semen&lt;/span&gt; on their face,... I get told no!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also saw one on Sea Turtles.. this was so cool... they said that when Sea Turtles mate, they mate underwater, but they still breath air... the female has to come up for air, cause if not, the male will forget and drown.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know about you, but all I can think is,.. Now THAT is some good pussy right there!&lt;br /&gt;I might not always hear the phone ring, but I never forget to BREATHE!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-4476306133457689032?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/4476306133457689032'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/4476306133457689032'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2010/10/nature-shows.html' title='Nature Shows...'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-8995668373738735989</id><published>2010-10-25T23:33:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-29T00:13:47.284-04:00</updated><title type='text'>My Daughter</title><content type='html'>I absolutely love my daughter, and as a parent, I can honestly say I would not trade her for any other kid... Some parents cant say that,.. and I know who you are.. I have seen your ugly little goblin running through the grocery store sticking his &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;talons&lt;/span&gt; into all the free samples they give out.. knocking shit off the shelves,....I see it coming at me.. all I can think is yell "Get the hell back in your cage!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know who you are that have the little ugly bastard kid!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Has the little tuft of hair, slurs his words, like Sloth from "The &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Goonies&lt;/span&gt;".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Keep feeding him Baby &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Ruths&lt;/span&gt;, go rent &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Goonies&lt;/span&gt;, and you will see what he will look like when he is 14!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-8995668373738735989?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/8995668373738735989'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/8995668373738735989'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2010/10/my-daughter.html' title='My Daughter'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-5288700506304827702</id><published>2010-10-17T02:55:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-17T16:38:06.758-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Groups of Women at the bar...</title><content type='html'>I watch people when I go out.. more so groups of people than just a random single person.. cause &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;that's&lt;/span&gt; called stalking.. and illegal in most areas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tend to watch groups, and one thing I have learned about watching groups is this... women.. if your out with your friends,.. be it a bar, &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;Starbucks&lt;/span&gt;, the movies.. where ever.. there is one of you in the group that is a cock blocker.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Think about your group of friends.. some of you know of her right off the bat!! "Oh its that fucking Samantha!! That cock blocking bitch! If she's not getting laid NO ONE IS GATTING LAID!!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And  if you think of your group of friends, and are thinking "&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;hmmmm&lt;/span&gt;... you know what, there &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;isn't&lt;/span&gt; one in my group! You &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; know what your talking about!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guess what..... Its YOU!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know what my job is when I go out with my friends.. I play the part of a wing man!! And god &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;damnit&lt;/span&gt;, I am a good one.. I will do what I have to do, especially if that chick my buddy is trying to pick up happens to be a 9+ on the "woman" scale!! Right fellas?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will give him the keys to my car,.. pick up the tab if he is short on cash, talk him up to help him seal the deal.. What ever it takes!! ,,,, maybe jump on the "ugly" grenade..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;Don't&lt;/span&gt; boo me!! Fuck you,..I know my roll... and most of the time.. I can see hers!! &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lets face it though.. some times.. there are some grenades you just cant jump on. You can look at it and all you can think is ... "Shit, sorry man,.. we are not all going to make it out of here alive!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know the one I am talking about right.. Your hitting it off well with someone at a bar, and your this close to getting her out of there and on your way to anywhere to do what ever. Then this chicky just drops from the sky like a phantom "Whoosh!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Jennifer,.. whats going on here.. what are you doing... what.. no... no, you came here with us, your leaving with us.. ok.. here, lets go to the bathroom and talk...."&lt;br /&gt;Your standing there like "Who the hell are you?"&lt;br /&gt;"Who am I? I am the cock blocker ok, you just mind your own business!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know the one I mean, has both eyes on the same side of her head... walks with a limp cause she has gout with a club foot.. and not the dance club kind!! I am just saying,... she looks like an overgrown gremlin... "Why is she ordering water... if she spills it on herself, more will pop out of her back!!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-5288700506304827702?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/5288700506304827702'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/5288700506304827702'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2010/10/groups-of-women-at-bar.html' title='Groups of Women at the bar...'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-3297323636676046723</id><published>2010-10-16T12:53:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-16T13:18:01.788-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I LOVE youtube!!</title><content type='html'>I just saw a video this morning on &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;youtube&lt;/span&gt; that was utterly AWESOME!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you have not seen this, you need to go home and check this out within one minute of getting in the door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Youtube&lt;/span&gt; "&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Nickleback&lt;/span&gt; booed off stage".. its in Portugal!!  Seeing this, gives me a new respect for the Portuguese..and their &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;hatred&lt;/span&gt;.. cause they &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;thru&lt;/span&gt; rocks at &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Nickleback&lt;/span&gt;. You know whats even better about this... it was an indoor venue!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AWESOME..I hate &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;nickleback&lt;/span&gt;, about as much as I hate Creed.. remember that shitty band? Me either!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lets break down what had to happen... They bought tickets...... picked up rocks and snuck them in.... waited &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;thru&lt;/span&gt; an opening act.... Do you know how bad that band had to be?? You know some people were on the edge about to waste their ammo, when someone kept them in focus of the task at hand.. WAIT WE HAVE BIGGER FISH!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Nickleback&lt;/span&gt; comes out and gets &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;thru&lt;/span&gt; one song, and as they are firing it up for the second.. it starts raining rocks, he asked the crowd if they wanted to rock and he got ROCKED in the SKULL!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Priceless!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to know one thing.....when is Justin &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_10" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Bieber&lt;/span&gt; going.. cause I am going to that concert armed with a rock and I am going to end it...... I am going to save the children... from the child!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-3297323636676046723?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/3297323636676046723'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/3297323636676046723'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2010/10/i-love-youtube.html' title='I LOVE youtube!!'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-2132335402458118496</id><published>2010-10-15T20:04:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-15T20:45:26.873-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Why I hate McDonalds</title><content type='html'>I am tired of all the lies coming from the commercials from McDonalds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone has seen these.. and they end the commercials with the same slogan right.. "I'm lovin' it!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know anyone loving McDonalds at the times they film these ads.. and they are full of lies... everyone is sober, after 2am, eating their fourth meal. What?&lt;br /&gt;"Hey are you awake?"&lt;br /&gt;"Yeah"&lt;br /&gt;"SWEET! 4th meal... High Five!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WTF??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone is using consonants and talking normally...that ad should sound like this. Two guys pissing on a dumpster&lt;br /&gt;"Hey man, we shouldotally get McOnalds!"&lt;br /&gt;"Fuck you! I will totally shove a my Big Mac up your ASS! Yeah I want McDondalds!"&lt;br /&gt;"Man, i so could,..just fries, and a drink, zzzzzzz.. HA HA HA! WHOO!! I could fuck McDonalds right now! I am LOVIN' THIS!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-2132335402458118496?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/2132335402458118496'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/2132335402458118496'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2010/10/why-i-hate-mcdonalds.html' title='Why I hate McDonalds'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-4945061731864471907</id><published>2010-10-15T19:36:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-15T19:54:30.714-04:00</updated><title type='text'>How do you know when she is mad?</title><content type='html'>I had a girlfriend once that would not tell me when she was mad,.. she would make me guess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know what she was doing... she was setting me up!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guessing is confessing!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She would always give me some kind of signal..the one that pushed us over the edge... I remember like it was yesterday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She made me a sandwich... nice right..... yup... with the two end pieces of bread.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The messed up part... it was not even the last two pieces of bread!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She had to reach all the way to the back of the bag,...inside the loaf,.. to get the other end piece.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't even notice... she tricked me, cause she made the sandwich inside out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She put mayonnaise on the BROWN SIDE!!!   I should have known when I took my first bite.. I was thinking "man.. this tastes extra crusty!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She handed it to me,.. I saw crumbs on her forearm... and all I could think was,.. she ate an entire bag of chips and put none on this plate with the sandwich.. "Hey, are you mad at me?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-4945061731864471907?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/4945061731864471907'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/4945061731864471907'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2010/10/how-do-you-know-when-she-is-mad.html' title='How do you know when she is mad?'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-7883101113160860318</id><published>2010-10-13T17:49:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-13T18:00:11.295-04:00</updated><title type='text'>How can you tell when women are into you?</title><content type='html'>I wish I could figure out how to tell when women were into me.. cause I dont have that filter.&lt;br /&gt;I suck at knowing when women are into me,... I never catch the hints.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It would be so much easier if you all had stop lights implanted into the middle of your foreheads.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Follow me on this... I see two women standing at the end of the bar,.. I kinda dig the one on the left, she is doing that thing with her tongue, you know what I am talking about..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I start walking down there towards her, she sees me coming.. BANG! Red Light. I know to stop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe her friend is into me though.. POW! Arrow!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What a time saver.. Guys... you go out with your friends, head down town, pop into a bar, open the door, "Oh shit guys.. we gotta go!! Nothing but red lights in here, fucking traffic jam!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ladies, this works for you too.. your sending signals down to that cute guy at the end of the bar, right, but he is watching the football game, and misses them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But that fat guy beside him totally see you looking that way.. probably me.. so I get my beer and start walking towards you... CAUTION, CAUTION, CAUTION, YELLOW, YELLOW, YELLOW, SLOW DOWN! SLOW DOWN!  RED LIGHT! RED LIGHT! RED LIGHT!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I keep coming.. thats when you hand me a ticket for $295 for running a red light!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-7883101113160860318?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/7883101113160860318'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/7883101113160860318'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2010/10/how-can-you-tell-when-women-are-into.html' title='How can you tell when women are into you?'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-4162953905111396706</id><published>2010-10-13T17:34:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-13T17:47:10.423-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Buying a Prostitute</title><content type='html'>I read an article in the paper where a guy was arrested for buying a prostitute,.. in the morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't mean like this guy had gone out drinking until the wee hours of the morning and decided to get a &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;prosty&lt;/span&gt; on the way home, &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt;.  This guy set his alarm, got up, and drove to the shitty part of town to get one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have never read anything so simultaneously gross and cool all at the same time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know what I do before I go to work? Eat cereal.. I eat cold wet food, then grab the lunch pail and head off to work. I even hit the snooze bar for quick ten minute nap!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meanwhile, this jackass has the &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;gumption&lt;/span&gt; to get up extra early, and his first thought is "Lets go get some pussy!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cool, I know.. but its gross... think about it..&lt;br /&gt;Yeah he is all clean and freashly dressed right... but its the morning.. its the END OF HER SHFT!!! This perv drives into town, rolls up to one, and is all "Hello, before you go home and wash all those other men off you,... I was wondering.. do you take cheques?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-4162953905111396706?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/4162953905111396706'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/4162953905111396706'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2010/10/buying-prostitute.html' title='Buying a Prostitute'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-292395455433566828</id><published>2010-10-13T17:14:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-13T17:33:51.641-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Buying a Pregnancy Test</title><content type='html'>Ladies need to learn there are some things guys cannot buy... like Pregnancy tests!!&lt;br /&gt;Do you know how much these things cost?? $27.95!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I saw that and was like "Fuck this,.. I will just wait and see if she gains weight!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For that price you can get a pizza,.. with toppings!! I know my priorities!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The same time I am in this isle,  there is a dude trying to steal one...... now I didn't know who his babies mama was,.... but I am pretty sure she will not be getting child support!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He needs priorities!!  If your going to steal, steal in a way that its going to help you.. know what I mean.. he would not of been in this situration if he had stolen CONDOMS!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-292395455433566828?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/292395455433566828'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/292395455433566828'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2010/10/buying-pregnancy-test.html' title='Buying a Pregnancy Test'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-5083994849819353868</id><published>2010-10-13T16:57:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-13T17:12:17.072-04:00</updated><title type='text'>WTF Ladies?!?</title><content type='html'>I was in shoppers drug mart the other day getting some deodorant, but unfortunately in my wondering the store for what I needed, I ended up in the feminine hygiene isle,.. you know, the one with all the pads, and wings, and strings!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was not really looking at what was written on the boxes, but two words jumped off the box that I just happened to be walking past.. it said "Heavy Flow"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These things looked like travel pillows!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am pretty sure I would be able to tell if someone was wearing one of these things too, cause as soon as a woman sat with one of these... it would sound like a transport truck letting the brakes out.. you know the sound... &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;PSHHHHHHHHHHHHT&lt;/span&gt;!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ladies,.. I am sorry,.. but if you have that much flow, you &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; need pads.... you need STITCHES!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-5083994849819353868?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/5083994849819353868'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/5083994849819353868'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2010/10/wtf-ladies.html' title='WTF Ladies?!?'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-6119912622525579554</id><published>2010-09-28T23:59:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-29T00:25:34.564-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Public restrooms</title><content type='html'>I was in a public rest room recently, and had an interesting incounter... now let me set this up for you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a single bathroom, door locked, and on the outside, when you locked the door, there was a little sign that would change from "vacant" to "in use".. any idiot should be able to understand how this works... even if you can read the words are in different colours vacant was green, and in use was red.. pretty simple right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now it is late,.. on a Friday,.. after going out... I was a ways from home.. and needed to..."drop the kids off at the pool".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I whip in to this gas station, run to the bathroom and am in the process of putting them in the "deep end".. and this guy comes up to the door and knocks on it.. which by the way you get to do one time. Ok. Once, that's is all you need to do. Knock one time and when there is a reply, you wait. That's the way its been working for decades....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not two minutes later,.. same guy, knocks on the door again and says "Are you still in there?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did I come out yet? Yeah I am still in here, and now its going to be a while cause now I am going to piss on everything I think your going to touch!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The toilet seat, the thing you press when you flush, the toilet paper, the baby changing station, the paper towels,... yeah, even the condom/colone dispenser.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you seen that thing by the way? the Condom/Colone dispenser?? Its about this big... if your buying your condoms in a gas station bathroom, I am willing to bet that the farm animal you are about to sleep with, isnt going to care how you smell!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-6119912622525579554?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/6119912622525579554'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/6119912622525579554'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2010/09/public-restrooms.html' title='Public restrooms'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-1323582291145238944</id><published>2010-09-28T23:50:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-28T23:59:43.593-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Its all about timing</title><content type='html'>I remember back when I started having "real" fun with girls.. some people may call it "adult time", maybe "sexual relations" would be better.... anyway,  we were messing around and "we" realized that "we" were out of condoms. So "she" decided that "we" should try the "pull out" &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;method&lt;/span&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, let me explain.... luck has never been something that has been good to me. I could fall in a bucket of nipples, I come out sucking my thumb, &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt;.... so "we" set the &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;gps&lt;/span&gt; for &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;pulloutsville&lt;/span&gt;,... &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;That's&lt;/span&gt; a lot of pressure for a guy.. that requires really good timing...something you should probably be really good at.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its like going to the gas station, and you have only a twenty dollar bill in your pocket... and your pumping gas, and you have to stop right on the twenty,.. cause if you go even one penny over, and you go inside, they give you a baby!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-1323582291145238944?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/1323582291145238944'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/1323582291145238944'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2010/09/its-all-about-timing.html' title='Its all about timing'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-8345213707982662090</id><published>2010-09-22T23:40:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-22T23:55:50.654-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Meth</title><content type='html'>There was an article in Maxim that caught me totally off guard.  It was talking about how bad Meth is.. but the puzzling part was that it had a "pleasure" scale of how good it made you feel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, thats what we need to keep the kids off Meth, let them know how good it makes you feel, they will definitely stay away!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The scale was based on Dopamine, the pleasure sensing chemical that your brain releases when your doing certain activities.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently, eating a cheeseburger was 1.5,.... Having sex... was 2.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Really.. there must have been some bacon on that cheeseburger.. cause that just does not seem right to me.. I am just saying, they are only a half a point apart on the scale.. so that tells me  either that is the most amazing, "magical" cheeseburger ever inve.. wait, what is that? Ground unicorn meat on that cheeseburger? That is delicious! Or that is lousy sex.. take your pick!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So its cheeseburger 1.5, Having sex 2, Having a cigarette also a 2, Cocaine was a 4,.... Meth... 11!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can anyone vouch for this? No, cause they are all at home scratching their skin and holding their teeth in there pocket sitting in their mobile home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you know what that means? You could be eating a cheeseburger, having sex, smoking a cigarette, on cocaine, STILL NOT TO METH YET!!&lt;br /&gt;Not even close!! Your still at least a hand job and a happy meal away!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-8345213707982662090?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/8345213707982662090'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/8345213707982662090'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2010/09/meth.html' title='Meth'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-2794283341083724164</id><published>2010-09-17T18:27:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-17T18:31:47.252-04:00</updated><title type='text'>how to meet the ladies...</title><content type='html'>I have been trying to figure out a way to meet women since I have been single and I came up with what I thought was a pretty good idea.. join a cooking class.... you know what I saw when I got there.. other creepy dudes!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now you might look at me and think "Man, I bet this guy looks at lots of &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;Internet&lt;/span&gt; porn!" and you would be right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I look at so much &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;Internet&lt;/span&gt; porn that I should probably join a support group.. which is true,.. but I am afraid that if I do, when I get there, all I would see is the guys from my cooking class!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;didn't&lt;/span&gt; see that coming you &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;weren't&lt;/span&gt; looking!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-2794283341083724164?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/2794283341083724164'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/2794283341083724164'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2010/09/how-to-meet-ladies.html' title='how to meet the ladies...'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-3235111381440252943</id><published>2010-09-11T03:54:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-11T03:57:41.692-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I like my women</title><content type='html'>I really like women.. I do..&lt;br /&gt;I like my women like I like my cars... Paid for!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like my women like I like my chairs.... able to support my ass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like my women like I like my meth labs... always cooking!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like my women like I like my peas... Black eyed, and dont make me tell you again bitch!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like my women like I like my beer... gone when I am done!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-3235111381440252943?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/3235111381440252943'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/3235111381440252943'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2010/09/i-like-my-women.html' title='I like my women'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-7733118980960360506</id><published>2010-09-11T03:42:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-11T03:46:37.549-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I think I figured women out</title><content type='html'>It finally hit me.. I know how to compare women to something that everyone can understand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Women are like sunglasses.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The really pretty ones that you spend alot of money on, and you want to always take care of,.. you will loose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, the cheap ones that you pick up in a gas station and you really dont give a shit about, you will have for years, and years, and years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some guys will want to clap at this, but cant... cause she is sitting right beside him.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-7733118980960360506?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/7733118980960360506'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/7733118980960360506'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2010/09/i-think-i-figured-women-out.html' title='I think I figured women out'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-3721879756713367489</id><published>2010-09-05T16:00:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-05T16:33:16.964-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Different rules when it comes to drinking.</title><content type='html'>You cant even get too drunk with your wife or girlfriend.  You ever notice fellas that if she gets too drunk its never her fault?&lt;br /&gt;"What happened babe?"&lt;br /&gt;"I &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; know.. I was just drinking, I &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; know what happened."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love this one "Someone put something in my drink!" I know.. its called alcohol!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; know what it is with you ladies, but you get too drunk and you loose the ability to walk. Men, we get fucked up but we are still waking.. "fuck it, i got it.. i got it..",.. most will even still try to drive.&lt;br /&gt;Not women. you drink too much, you just give up. Ever have this conversation fellas? "get up! COME ON BABE, GET UP!"&lt;br /&gt;"just leave me here.."&lt;br /&gt;"Your in the &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;McDonalds&lt;/span&gt; parking lot."&lt;br /&gt;"Carry &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Meeeeeee&lt;/span&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You better carry her ass... you hear me.. you better put her to bed, leave her water and &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;Tylenol&lt;/span&gt; by the bed.. and you better be there for her every two minutes when she wakes up thinking she has to throw up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I am going to throw up.. come with me hurry."&lt;br /&gt;"I am not sick.. Your sick..&lt;em&gt; &lt;/em&gt;I am going back to &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;slee&lt;/span&gt;..."&lt;br /&gt;"COME WITH ME!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there you are, sitting on the edge of the tub.. helping her NOT throw up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"just do it"&lt;br /&gt;"I CANT"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Just do it"&lt;br /&gt;"It hurts!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"let it out you will feel better"&lt;br /&gt;Your MAD AT &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;MEEE&lt;/span&gt;!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not mad...&lt;br /&gt;"Your yelling your mad!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Kids, go back to bed, mommy is not feeling well.&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;Don't&lt;/span&gt; let my babies see me like this."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;what about when its us.. huh ladies.. what about when we are the ones dying!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Are you helping us? No,.. your in the door way making it worse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Look at you.. your pathetic! Your fucking pathetic.. I hope you die motherfucker... &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;ohh&lt;/span&gt; look.. now your pissing on yourself..... get in the tub!! KIDS wake up!! come in here... look at your father..... "&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-3721879756713367489?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/3721879756713367489'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/3721879756713367489'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2010/09/different-rules-when-it-comes-to.html' title='Different rules when it comes to drinking.'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-6360725331801611544</id><published>2010-09-05T15:35:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-14T17:08:02.802-04:00</updated><title type='text'>On Line Dating</title><content type='html'>My friends convinced me to try online dating so I tried that...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;everyone says their friends convinced them to try it.. &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;everyones&lt;/span&gt; a &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;lier&lt;/span&gt; cause you do that on your own, late at night when no one is watching. Its like looking at porn, you &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; want to get caught looking at that site, ever!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Women write some funny shit on their profiles.. stuff like "I am an outgoing lady looking for an outgoing guy"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bullshit, we are both in front of the computer on a &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;Friday&lt;/span&gt;, who are you lying too?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Women are deceptive with their photos too... you see one thing online and then you see them in the coffee shop and its like &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Ohhh&lt;/span&gt;.. &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Eeee&lt;/span&gt;! Well,..... still going to fuck her!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;POF&lt;/span&gt;, anyone else here do that? No? over 100 thousand people on there, but I am the only one from Ottawa.. nice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So let me tell you how it works, you put your information on the Internet, and then you do this 50 question survey... and then the Internet will send you matches weekly with whom it thinks is a match for you based on those questions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So far the Internet has been a bit of a dick about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not getting good matches is all I am saying.. &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt;.. its like I get "Hey Brad, I see you like to sit on the couch and watch movies.. maybe you should send this woman with a lazy eye that never shuts up a message cause you wont want to take her out in public."&lt;br /&gt;"Wait, we also see that you like to go to bars every now and then so maybe you would like this woman who is a 2 at 10 but at 2 she is a ten.... &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;ohh&lt;/span&gt; and she is a slight alcoholic..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Internet dates are tough, if you have never been on one.. its weird right from the start cause you met online, that's not normally how you meet people. So at the start of the date you are like "&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Ahh&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_10" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt;.. &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_11" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;sooo&lt;/span&gt; whats wrong with you? Cause I got &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_12" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;alot&lt;/span&gt; of stuff going on with me that I left off the profile. I see you may have left a few things off as well... like for instance.. when did you loose that ear? How do your glasses stay on? When were you going to tell me you were in a wheel chair?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-6360725331801611544?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/6360725331801611544'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/6360725331801611544'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2010/09/on-line-dating.html' title='On Line Dating'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-3808868937886281830</id><published>2010-08-12T19:46:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-12T20:11:37.990-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Women</title><content type='html'>&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Ohhh&lt;/span&gt; ladies,.. we have to talk. I love you ladies, I do, I am a big fan. But every time we get together you try to change me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every time we are together its always "Pick this up, pick it up. This does not go here. The hamper is over there, pick it up."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, I have a system. See everything on this side of the floor is dirty. And everything on this side of the floor is dirty,... but I am going to wear it again. You &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;didn't&lt;/span&gt; see my work boots still in my jeans?!?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And what is it with women wanting men to shave their body hair. Is that what you want ladies? To sleep with a man, that is smoother than you? Then you will wonder why your getting cold at night. Shit sleep with me... you will be kicking a leg out saying "Damn its hot in there!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remember your dad... did your mom try to change your dad? He never shaved his body hair. Shit he &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;didn't&lt;/span&gt; even need Q-tips, cause he had keys.  Men are actually getting manicures now.. seriously.. Manicures... Look, if your nails are too long, let me tell you what you do, &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt;.. you bite them off like every other guy out there in the world and spit them on the floor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What ladies... you &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; play by the rules. You can have an entire photo album of all the ex boyfriends that have been in your lives right there in the middle of the living room coffee table. We start looking &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;thru&lt;/span&gt; it asking questions like "Who is this dork?" and you get mad at us.&lt;br /&gt;"Stop it! Stop it! Give me those! Those are my memories! These men have nothing to do with you. Your so &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;insecure&lt;/span&gt;, get over it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But let her find a picture of you and another woman... not an album... ONE.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You will come home to the devil. Go walking in like "Honey I am home!" and she meets you at the door "Who is this bitch? Who is this! &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;Don't&lt;/span&gt; look at her! &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;Don't&lt;/span&gt; look at her! &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;Don't&lt;/span&gt; touch me! Who is this whore!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hey relax would you.. that was Prom!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-3808868937886281830?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/3808868937886281830'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/3808868937886281830'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2010/08/women.html' title='Women'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-5378579766694477757</id><published>2010-08-10T22:49:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-10T23:06:05.333-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The One Upper Friend</title><content type='html'>I love my friends, but I think everyone has one of these friends in their circle.. its the "one upper" friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know who you are.. you little son of a bitch!! All you want to do is tell your story..that's it.  They are never there when you start it, so you think to yourself, "Ok, I can get this one in".. then half way thru they show up and butt in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I was at the cottage last week, and I came across this 30 foot cliff. So I found my way up thru this back path, and when I got to the top, I didn't think I could get myself to jump but I worked up the courage, and plunged down into the frigged water."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You don't even get to finish tellin the entire story, and they are all "SO WHAT!!"&lt;br /&gt;they always start with so what, makes your story seem lame.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"SO WHAT!! Yesterday I scaled a 100 foot rock face with my TEETH! When I got to the top, I could not even see the water at the bottom cause the clouds were so thick! An eagle soared passed me giving me a nod as if to say 'you are safe to dive my friend'.. so I got into a hand stand, and fell into a front somersault doing two full turns and three and a half twists. As the sunset was touching the water and the sun rays were glistening off my body, I entered the water with only a ripple. When I surfaced,.. I was holding a treasure chest!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SHUT UP SEAN! My story was not filled with fucking lies you asshole!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He turned to me and offered me a golden chocolate coin. So I took it and walked in shame back to my cubical.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-5378579766694477757?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/5378579766694477757'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/5378579766694477757'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2010/08/one-upper-friend.html' title='The One Upper Friend'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-1599945789661081390</id><published>2010-08-04T02:50:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-04T03:07:26.525-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Something I dont miss.</title><content type='html'>I have had these every now and then, and some are not bad.. and others,.. well... why bother.&lt;br /&gt;I am talking about hand jobs. Ladies,.. I want to say thank you for trying.. HOWEVER.... if &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;that's&lt;/span&gt; what your going to do... if &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;that's&lt;/span&gt; ALL your going to do,.. then I have to say...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rub my back... &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt;.. Cause I can't reach my back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cant take care of this all day. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And if you are one of those that thinks you can handle it.. please remember. &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;Don't&lt;/span&gt; talk to me when your doing it cause its just fucking creepy! Besides the fact you break my concentration. I &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; want to know what you had for supper when I am trying to get off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And as much as I appreciate you taking care of your self down there. Trimming it up, making it pretty. Don't expect the same in return.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a girlfriend tell me once "Hey, I think you should shave your back."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was like what? are you kidding me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was all about it.. she said "No seriously, I think you really need to shave your back, I mean after all I take care of myself for you, I think its only fair that you do the same. Don't you?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could not help but fully agree. I caved.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I flat out told her.. "You know what baby,... Your so right. So how about this.. Next time you lick my back and make me cum, I will take it all off for you!!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-1599945789661081390?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/1599945789661081390'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/1599945789661081390'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2010/08/something-i-dont-miss.html' title='Something I dont miss.'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-2326594199935944885</id><published>2010-08-04T02:42:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-04T02:49:26.420-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Quiting smoking</title><content type='html'>Everyone is drinking? &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Thats&lt;/span&gt; cool, its a Monday, why not. Screw it, drink up then drive home real fast it will be sweet!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I quit drinking from January to May, but I am back cause it is tasty. I quit drinking cause I wanted to quit smoking. Not because I have a problem with alcohol, I have a problem with cigarettes. For me, I could not have a drink without having a cigarette.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was like trying to poop and not pee.  I &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;couldn't&lt;/span&gt; do it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You can smoke and not drink, and you can pee and not poop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But you cant drink and not smoke, and you cant poop and not pee, I have tried it, &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;doesn't&lt;/span&gt; work!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-2326594199935944885?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/2326594199935944885'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/2326594199935944885'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2010/08/quiting-smoking.html' title='Quiting smoking'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-7617434111083288761</id><published>2010-08-04T02:13:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-04T02:34:49.496-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Texting</title><content type='html'>I have learned this, to date a woman in this market, you need to contact your cell phone provider and sign up for a text messaging plan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Holy Shit! Its a phone! Its a phone, ok... ladies, you want to talk to me, guess what, there is a button on your phone, says fucking talk, you press the button that says the shit that you want to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not anti-txt messaging ok, however, my name is also not Ron Textall either. Me and my buddies text message each other all the time. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The difference is, that its a message... its one line.... and it needs no answer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hey, meet me here."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;or "Hey, I am running late."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;or "Hey, that chick your talking to is fucking nasty, shut it down and lets go."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And don't look at me like that cause girls do it too. You do.. be honest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It doesn't matter what sex you are, if you have ever been hitting on someone and the shit was going well,...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;then all of a sudden looked at their phone.......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;then looked at you.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and walked away....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, someone just reached out and cock blocked you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it should not be used to carry on a conversation, and I will tell you why.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went out with my buddies and my girlfriend at the time went out with hers. The plan was to meet back at the house whenever things wrapped up, no time set. Well, somewhere in there, my girlfriend got a little drunk, happened to you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It happened to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And she decided to drunk text me.. you ladies know what that is all about don't you.&lt;br /&gt;I got a message from her that said "Whats up? Where are you? I want to fuck you!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wrote back "Were out. See you at the house later."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Again, ladies,.. its a message. its supposed to be quick, like fast food,... in and out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I got another one from her, that read "No, tell me something you want to do to me,.. I am horny!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All I could think to myself is "this is not going to end well." You ladies like keeping these messages and bring them up later with your friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I wrote back "I want to have sex with you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I get back, "Tell me something hot!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I cave, cause I am fucking whooped! and I write back "I want to lick your pussy."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But my phone has this T9 word.. where the phone THINKS it knows what you are trying to say and puts it in for you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what she read was "I want to kick your puppy."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's a great story at parties let me tell you!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-7617434111083288761?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/7617434111083288761'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/7617434111083288761'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2010/08/texting.html' title='Texting'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-3074286728662987056</id><published>2010-07-06T01:36:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-07-06T01:41:05.793-04:00</updated><title type='text'>KY hers and mine</title><content type='html'>I learned this recently...there is a new sexual lubricant on the market.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am sure your happy your hearing this from me.&lt;br /&gt;Its called "KY Yours and Mine".  Its actually two lubricants. One provides a "thrilling" feeling for her, and the other provides an "invigorating" sensation for him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HOWEVER, when  you maturebate with both, they combine to create in "intense sensation" of shame!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-3074286728662987056?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/3074286728662987056'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/3074286728662987056'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2010/07/ky-hers-and-mine.html' title='KY hers and mine'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-8599119982807129035</id><published>2010-07-06T01:29:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-07-06T01:33:36.605-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Signs of Aging</title><content type='html'>I know I am getting older.. but it really hit me the other day. Here is how I know I am getting older.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now when I see a hot teenage girl walking down the street, I think to myself "Wow, I bet she has a hot... Mom!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to see the mom now, I didnt realize that was the next phase of life.  Whats next? Where's GRANNY!! I want to see three generations of this magic!! Lets Go!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-8599119982807129035?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/8599119982807129035'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/8599119982807129035'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2010/07/signs-of-aging.html' title='Signs of Aging'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-7448855396468991734</id><published>2010-04-26T22:30:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-26T22:38:21.988-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I am my own Gatoraid factory!!</title><content type='html'>I was drinking rye the other night, and that is never a good thing for me.  Cause I am out of shape, and so when I drink Rye, the next day I get "Fat Man Moustache"... you know what that is.... its where you get beads of sweat on your upper lip.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just from doing nothing.. at all... just walking from the living room to the kitchen, I am like "&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Wtf&lt;/span&gt; is that..&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;ohh&lt;/span&gt; its sweat coming out of my upper lip. Cause all my other sweat glands all over my body are &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;soooo&lt;/span&gt; tired of sweating that its now coming out of my LIP!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is that healthy? I &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; think so... but its &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt;.. I am turning my negatives into a &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;positive&lt;/span&gt;.. cause now when I am walking and I get tired, I lick my upper lip.. and guess what... &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;electrolytes&lt;/span&gt; right back into my system!!Sounds gross, I know.... but  I am now my own &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;Gatorade&lt;/span&gt; factory!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-7448855396468991734?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/7448855396468991734'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/7448855396468991734'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2010/04/i-am-my-own-gatoraid-factory.html' title='I am my own Gatoraid factory!!'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-3252263178647129813</id><published>2009-11-19T23:04:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-19T23:18:32.300-05:00</updated><title type='text'>How do some things actually make it into stores?</title><content type='html'>Sitting around wonding how things actually get thru the cracks,.. and how do they actually go from dream to reality...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are tons of great things that have come from nothing, just watch any "as seen on TV" product.. sell by the millions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have always wondered though,... How did the Blowup doll actually get pitched? How did this meeting take place?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can see a bunch of people sitting in an office like "Shark Tank" or Dragons Den and this guy comes in,.. "So Mr. Smith.. tell us your idea"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ok... So I am a great outdoors kind of guy... and like anyone I have trouble meeting the right person.. and then one day on a white water rafting trip it came to me... I created this!! Its a Raft with Arms... and you Fuck It!! I call it.... Samantha!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Two words for you Mr. Smith... CORNER OFFICE!!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-3252263178647129813?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/3252263178647129813'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/3252263178647129813'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2009/11/how-do-some-things-actually-make-it.html' title='How do some things actually make it into stores?'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-3392536368680455791</id><published>2009-11-19T09:15:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-19T09:21:16.034-05:00</updated><title type='text'>That guy that picked on you when you were in Elementry school</title><content type='html'>I am a big guy now, but in elementary school I was actually very small, I was one of the smallest kids in school. And there was one kid in particular that used to pick on me, and beat me up, and call me names, and made my life a living hell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then in High School, I got bigger and stronger cause I hit my growth spurt..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and he got leukemia...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I win!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-3392536368680455791?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/3392536368680455791'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/3392536368680455791'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2009/11/that-guy-that-picked-on-you-when-you.html' title='That guy that picked on you when you were in Elementry school'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-3636585459936439615</id><published>2009-11-19T09:08:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-19T09:15:04.534-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Bodies</title><content type='html'>Mines getting too fat, &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;independently&lt;/span&gt; of myself, it does what it wants. And it makes getting dressed a &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;challenge&lt;/span&gt;,... my pants are so tight now, my farts are getting louder... I own one suit, not even a good one,.. its a George Foreman.. and I only own a suit cause it came with my grill.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People actually come up to me in the grocery store and ask me where the junk food is. Seriously.. "Hey man, where are the Joe Louis?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;Doesn't&lt;/span&gt; matter man.. I have them all!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of my friends is always trying to help me loose weight by asking me stupid questions.. "Hey Brad, loosing weight is not hard, you just have to watch what you eat.. like what did you have for breakfast this morning.?"&lt;br /&gt;"Cereal."&lt;br /&gt;"Nice, how many bowls did you have?"&lt;br /&gt;"I &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; know, how many come in a box?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-3636585459936439615?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/3636585459936439615'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/3636585459936439615'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2009/11/bodies.html' title='Bodies'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-3118690613345375849</id><published>2009-04-09T09:20:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-09T09:56:28.656-04:00</updated><title type='text'>One thing I have had it with....</title><content type='html'>Seriously,..... this goes out to everyone.. not gender specific,.. its a text message.. ok,.. MESSAGE!! its not a text NOVEL.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its a phone. If you want to talk to me,.. there is a button on your phone for that purpose.. its the little green one with the damn phone on it.. press it and talk to me. Cause its a phone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't get me wrong,.. I am not against texting.. me and my buddies do it all the time,.. the difference is that it is only a message. Its only one line that needs no answer what so ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quick little one liners.. cause that's all it takes. &lt;div&gt;"I am running late."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"We are at Wild Wings, you coming?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The chick your hitting on is dirty! End the conversation and lets go."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It should not be used to carry on a conversation, and I will tell you why..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My girlfriend went out with some of her friends for a "ladies night"... no biggy,.. I went out with my buddies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The plan was to meet back at the house "when ever" and just go out for a good night on the town. Well,.. somewhere in there... my girlfriend got a little drunk. And she decided to tell me that,.. with her phone. I got a text message from her saying "Hwat is up? whree are you guys? I tink your a sexyy best!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I wrote her back, "Thanks".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its a text message, not a conversation keeper.  Its like a fast food restaurant.. In and out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I got another text message from her "No, tell me somehing hot. I cant wait to get you home! hWat do you want me to do to yu?"   Dirty talking, great fun,,..... dirty texting,.. remorse will set in, at some point she will bring this shit up again when you least expect it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I wrote her back "Stop texting me."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Take me whree? I want to blow you!" is what I got back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, so I am thinking, I want to get on with my evening, and shut her up, so I need to write something that will allow me to do both.  Now my phone was equipped with this "Txt word" option where it figures out your word that you typing and you select the right one that matches. You know what I am talking about? right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what I wrote her back was "I want to lick your pussy, would you like that?",... was what I thought I wrote...... What I ended up writing, thanks to this TxT word was "I want to kick your puppy, would you like that?".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the next message did not make sense to me. I opened my phone and read 'Why don't you like cuddles"Cuddles was her dog.I went to bed alone, sexless, ........... and never lived down the fact she thought I wanted to kick her dog.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-3118690613345375849?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/3118690613345375849'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/3118690613345375849'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2009/04/one-thing-i-have-had-it-with.html' title='One thing I have had it with....'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-2493512274049302805</id><published>2009-04-07T14:10:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-07T14:20:30.322-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Raised by a single mom</title><content type='html'>I was raised by a single mother.&lt;br /&gt;And anyone else have that weird experience that was raised by the single mother, have you ever had that weird experience when you were a kid,... and you wake up late at night to go to the bathroom,.... and in the hallway,... out side your mom's bedroom,... you encounter "that guy" you have never seen before?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know what I mean? You kind of keep your head down cause you are afraid to make eye contact, your not really sure what to say anyway even if your eyes do connect, right.. you get a little older, and you realize... you know what's 100 times more awkward than that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, being "that guy". Cause there is still nothing to say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No I am not your "new daddy" and how do you get out of this trailer park anyway?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-2493512274049302805?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/2493512274049302805'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/2493512274049302805'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2009/04/raised-by-single-mom.html' title='Raised by a single mom'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-6676406136512898577</id><published>2009-04-02T09:56:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-02T10:01:40.960-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Something I have never told you guys...</title><content type='html'>I have never told you anything about myself,.. so,.. here we go... My name is Brad Sproule,... I am a Capricorn with a subtle of humor who likes long walks on the beach, quiet romantic candle lit dinners, and heading out for a drive with no particular place to go. In my free time I enjoy reading Oprah's "Book of the month" selection, and I have a six figure income......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, you people ain't buying it, but those bitches on Lavalife eat this shit UP! OMG! So gullible!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-6676406136512898577?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/6676406136512898577'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/6676406136512898577'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2009/04/something-i-have-never-told-you-guys.html' title='Something I have never told you guys...'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-258869839524141845</id><published>2009-04-01T13:40:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-01T14:05:21.167-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Raising kids</title><content type='html'>If you turned 16, and your parents bought you a brand car your a douche and you will always be a douche.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They did not do you any favors by buying you a car, they did you an injustice. You need to earn things like that by working hard for it. Not just having it fall into your lap cause your parents think your a "good person" and deserve a break.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you have a son, you treat him like shit. Cause the world is rough, and its your duty to prepare him for the outside world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My dad treated me like crap. He would take us to the movies, buy popcorn for my sister, and nothing for me.&lt;br /&gt;"Can I have some?"&lt;br /&gt;"I don't know,.. you have money?"&lt;br /&gt;"I'm 8."&lt;br /&gt;"Well,.. get a job, then you can buy your own."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But if you have a daughter,... and I have seen this with my own eyes,.. spoil her.&lt;br /&gt;Give her the world. Spoil the hell out of that little girl. And I will tell you why... all you dad's out there that want to get back at her boyfriend in the future... that is the way to do it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When he shows up and starts whining "She wont take anything I try to give her, she's hard to shop for, I can't afford her, and I don't even think I make her happy..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;That's&lt;/span&gt; right you little prick,....I did that on purpose. So why don't you just get the hell out of her life... or work a little harder!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-258869839524141845?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/258869839524141845'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/258869839524141845'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2009/04/raising-kids.html' title='Raising kids'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-5533939470718332556</id><published>2009-04-01T13:08:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-01T13:40:24.905-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Job Interview</title><content type='html'>I am not sure what is worse... having a shitty job,... or having to interview for a shitty job.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Atleast if you have a shitty job, it may not be a career, but its playing the part.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Interviewing for a shitty job,.. different story, cause you have to sell yourself to be the best person posible, even though,.. we all know there are people better qualified for the position.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Plain and simple,... job interviews SUCK!! It turns into question period for 15 minutes.. and all you want to do is hit the door, stop off at the smut shop and pick up a new flick, grab Mcdonalds on the way home, and lay around on the couch.... Am I sharing too much??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My favorite questions....&lt;br /&gt;So,... What can you tell me about yourself?&lt;br /&gt;ummm.. I have a case of pink eye, and my foot is asleep.....oh, and I have matching silverware for the plate in my head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you have any hobbies?&lt;br /&gt;I like to collect lotion, and playboy magazines.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What can you bring to this company?&lt;br /&gt;Headlice..... and the occational case of VD.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok,.. Where do you see yourself in 5 years?&lt;br /&gt;Back in rehab baby!! Woo! When can I start!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-5533939470718332556?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/5533939470718332556'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/5533939470718332556'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2009/04/job-interview.html' title='The Job Interview'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-5164998012103470054</id><published>2009-04-01T09:42:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-01T10:08:18.369-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Gotta get me one of those...</title><content type='html'>I like to think my generation is pretty normal. Then I go out to dinner with my fiancee and see this walking turd bag out on a date, whether its with his girlfriend, wife, whatever... and all I can think is "How does that guy leave the house looking like that?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are at an Italian restaurant last night, we will call it "Westside Luigis", and this couple come in.. she is dressed nicely,.. presentable.. no big deal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her boyfriend,.. totally different story... he has on a pair of jeans.. and a black t-shirt... but not just any black t-shirt.. this one had writing on it that you could read from across the room... big white bold letters  &lt;strong&gt;"I Fuck on the FIRST DATE!"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ahhh,.. that's awesome. The only thing more classy than this shirt is the black "Tuxedo t-shirt"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How do you leave the house wearing this?  ON A DATE!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I am thinking,.. What if this is their first date? How does this chick STILL GO OUT WITH THE GUY!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe she is blind? but then I see her looking at the menu,.. so that's out the window.&lt;br /&gt;Maybe she is just a slut, and this is a way for the guy to have his own inside joke. *no pun intended*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The part that made this entire scene funny to me was,.. &lt;strong&gt;the shirt was tucked in&lt;/strong&gt;. This was his way of solving his casual attire and taking it to another level.  How does this guy choose what to wear on a date? Heads the Fuck shirt,... Tails... just a plain white "wife beater".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall, of his trailer,... when he walks up to the closet, pulls the folding door to the side and just starts picking thru his shirts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No fat chicks" ..... nah,.. this is more like a Saturday night shirt.&lt;br /&gt;"Who farted?".... more like a Church shirt really.&lt;br /&gt;"At least your reading my shirt instead of looking at my huge erection".. not planning on going to a strip club later.. Think I will go with the &lt;strong&gt;"I FUCK ON THE FIRST DATE!" &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;You sir,.. are my hero.... &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-5164998012103470054?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/5164998012103470054'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/5164998012103470054'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2009/04/gotta-get-me-one-of-those.html' title='Gotta get me one of those...'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-7421702767205003517</id><published>2009-03-31T10:39:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-31T10:46:51.418-04:00</updated><title type='text'>My non-existant sex life</title><content type='html'>When my girlfriend and I started out,.. we were having sex pretty regularly.... I guess some would call it "bunny sex" cause we were always going at it. That is when she was still setting her trap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then she got pregnant,.. and the sex came a little less frequently. Which from what I understand is totally normal. However, not only would she not let me touch her,... she interrupted me touching myself.. and now that my daughter is 2, our sex lives are pretty much non existent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its not like we don't still have sex,.. we just don't have it with each other.... the nice thing is that she still refers to my penis with her little sexy pet name.. says it all the time.. she calls it "That thing".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know,.. as in "Get that THING away from me!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ahhh the love.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-7421702767205003517?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/7421702767205003517'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/7421702767205003517'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2009/03/my-non-existant-sex-life.html' title='My non-existant sex life'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-5947637778930888727</id><published>2009-03-18T20:34:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-18T20:48:25.772-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Really? Movies can make you gay? (not that there is anything wrong with that!)</title><content type='html'>So I went to the movies,.. just me and a 'bro' of mine.. nothing better to do, figured "What the hell, I have $14 to piss away!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last week, Wednesday night, not really &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;alot&lt;/span&gt; happening in our lives, so we went to the movies. It was for the late show, and you know what... not really &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;alot&lt;/span&gt; of people in the movies on a hump day at 10pm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The theater was EMPTY except for us. 10,000 seats, and there was just two of us. I just walk up to where I wanted to sit, did not ask where he wanted to sit, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;cause&lt;/span&gt; honestly,... I didn't care where he sat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He sat down beside the seat next to me, so now there was a "buffer" seat. I just wanted to turn to him and say "Bro, I know were not gay. We have been friends for years,.... I have a kid,... I am pretty sure that any sexual tension would have surfaced by now" you know what I am &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;sayin&lt;/span&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously, who goes to the movies on a Wednesday night? a bunch of stoned high school students, who cares what they think right?  FYI we went to see Pineapple Express.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think what he did kind of defeated the purpose.. cause nothing looks gayer than "the Buffer".  Cause now you just look like a couple of guys stuck in a closet afraid to come out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then if you speak of the situation your now stuck in, nothing would look gayer than that. Two guys sitting together but separate in a movie theater &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;ARGUING&lt;/span&gt; ABOUT THE BUFFER.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All I am &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;sayin&lt;/span&gt; is if your two guys, you go to a movie, and you are the only two in the movie theater........ make your friend choose where he is sitting, then sit four rows up or down from him and pretend you dont know each other.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-5947637778930888727?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/5947637778930888727'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/5947637778930888727'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2009/03/really-movies-can-make-you-gay-not-that.html' title='Really? Movies can make you gay? (not that there is anything wrong with that!)'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-430894538341388752</id><published>2009-03-17T12:12:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-17T12:22:21.348-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Making myself uncomfortable</title><content type='html'>I realized something the other day... no matter how old I get,.. I will never be comfortable in a porn store.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I understand that there is one part of retail that everyone tries to exceed at, and that is customer service... but honestly,.. this is one retail store that can let that part go. Cause when I am in "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;perv&lt;/span&gt;" mode,.. I don't need someone coming up to me every few minutes asking me if "I am finding everything &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt;?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Especially if its a woman working in there,.. cause having her come bouncing up to me asking me if I "need help finding anything" is not an issue,.. unless of course I am holding a mag in my hand that is titled "Hot Granny Porn", then its a little awkward.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then you have the overly friendly guy that is about three days away from death that comes sneaking up on you, how I am not sure,.. most of the time I can hear the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;squeaky&lt;/span&gt; wheel on the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;oxygen&lt;/span&gt; tank being pulled behind him, but not in the porn store... must be some special type of carpet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You can be standing there, just looking around, and he pops up like he was transported there from "The Enterprise"..... (my only star trek reference)... minding my own business and he's all "Hey how you doing?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whoa! Shit man,.. back off, little personal space if you don't mind... and don't talk to me,.. if I was doing better, I would not be HERE right now,.. OK!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-430894538341388752?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/430894538341388752'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/430894538341388752'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2009/03/making-myself-uncomfortable.html' title='Making myself uncomfortable'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-8805149362596941663</id><published>2009-03-13T08:08:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-13T08:16:59.109-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Rejected online</title><content type='html'>So I posted an event on Facebook,... asking my friends to come out and support me, live comedy, and cheap beer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sent out 82 invites... and have the following results.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4 confirmed that they will be there, one of which is me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11 maybe's... so its 50/50 for them to show.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;53 no's. Really,.. over HALF! really gives you a great confident boost when you get rejected by your friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I get more confirmations on Lavalife for a posted event... and I dont even KNOW those people, and my clothes stay on when I am on stage!! Unless the show goes really really wrong.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-8805149362596941663?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/8805149362596941663'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/8805149362596941663'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2009/03/rejected-online.html' title='Rejected online'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-3252545597825221367</id><published>2009-03-09T14:17:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-13T08:06:16.631-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Hair is confusing!</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;I don't understand hair in general.. I mean, yeah I understand it grows from within the skin, and it is different with everyone,.. I get that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;What I understand.. is this... Why do I get the hair on my head cut every two weeks like clock work.... cause if I didn't then I would look like a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;hippy&lt;/span&gt; in a few weeks. The hair on my face.. very similar... have to shave every day.. or I look like a wolf man.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;What I don't understand is this... how come the hair on my back, legs and crotch knows when to stop growing? It is all the same hair.. the DNA is all the same...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I should be tucking my Pubes into my SOCKS by now.. you would think!! &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;And these people that are going for "Laser hair removal".... one word for you. MORON!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Remember, in the mid 90's... no one thought bell bottoms would be coming back,.. then all of a sudden, BANG!! they are back in style.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Laser hair removal is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;PERMANENT&lt;/span&gt;! You cant get it back unless you do HAIR PLUGS!,.. or that hair in a can spray paint! &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;What happens when that 70's bush comes back into style.. YOUR FUCKED!!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;My fiancee is after me to have it done to my back.. cause it "bothers her in bed".&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;We had a big fight about it and everything. She wanted to "Nair" my back.. you know what that stuff is?? It "burns the hair off at the skin, for smooth results without nicks, cuts or bumps".&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I was like, there is NO WAY I am doing that to my back.. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;and she got all pissed off.. "Why not.. It could be better for us in bed.. you don't know. I take care of myself 'down there' for you.. and you like it.. so why don't you want to do this for me?"&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I was like, "Your right honey,... so I tell you what,... you figure out a way to make me cum by licking my back, and I will laser it off!"&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Until then... you get &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;WOLF MAN&lt;/span&gt;!!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-3252545597825221367?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/3252545597825221367'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/3252545597825221367'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2009/03/hair-is-confusing.html' title='Hair is confusing!'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-9033562780628886994</id><published>2009-02-27T08:04:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-27T08:09:52.101-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Simple Mis-understanding</title><content type='html'>Have you ever been misunderstood before? Where  you say something to somebody, they take it the wrong way, and there is nothing,..... &lt;strong&gt;NOTHING&lt;/strong&gt; you can do to yank those words back out of the one ear, jumble them up and stick them in the other?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or,.. where someone will see you doing something, but they only see you doing &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Part&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; of it,.. and they jump to conclusions?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Get this,.. I had a girlfriend one time, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;accuse&lt;/span&gt; me,.. of masturbating in my sleep.... &lt;strong&gt;What?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was like "I was not &lt;strong&gt;sleeping&lt;/strong&gt;!!! I was only &lt;em&gt;masturbating&lt;/em&gt;!!!! You sick-o!  I thought &lt;strong&gt;YOU&lt;/strong&gt; were sleeping though!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-9033562780628886994?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/9033562780628886994'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/9033562780628886994'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2009/02/simple-mis-understanding.html' title='Simple Mis-understanding'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-954770686909115217</id><published>2009-02-26T10:24:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-13T08:08:17.978-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Whats wrong with me.</title><content type='html'>Obviously,..everyone has some food that they really like. Some would say they love,.. I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; love food,.. I like it. Its a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;necessity&lt;/span&gt; to live.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some of the foods I like,.. however,.. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; seem to like me back. They give me heartburn. So I went to the doctors office to see if there was something they could give me. All kinds of medications out there,.. there must be something to fix this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After I told the doctor what was going on,.. he said he would be right back. I figured he went to get me a prescription,.. yeah, I was way off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What he went and got was a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;piece&lt;/span&gt; of paper.... and he handed it to me.&lt;br /&gt;Know what was on it? A list of things that give me heartburn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am sitting there looking this over, and I turned to him and said "Uh, Doc,.. I,.. I already know this. I know how to get it! I need something to take it away."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So then he asked me a small list of questions.. and you would think that by looking at me he could figure out the answers already.&lt;br /&gt;#1 - Do you eat fried or fatty foods?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gee,... do ya think??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#2 - Do you eat large meals?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You mean like breakfast, lunch and dinner?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#3 - Do you eat within 2-3 hours before going to bed?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, lets see, are you talking about the large meals,.. or just snacking in general? cause I have a small refrigerator beside my bed "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;in case&lt;/span&gt; of an emergency",... and there are emergencies every night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#4 - Do you wear tight fitting clothing?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, I work as "Disco Dave" down at the 'All Male review' pealing it off for the ladies every Thursday night so they can hit me with dollar coins all night long! Cause everyone wants to see this naked!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So then he turned to me, pulled his glasses off, and said "You know Brad,... you should probably drop a couple of pounds,.."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you.&lt;br /&gt;Only your doctor can kindly give you the adulation you need while insulting your very being at the same time.&lt;br /&gt;"So, in closing Brad, you should loose some &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;weight&lt;/span&gt;,.... and those congenital growths are looking really &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;weird&lt;/span&gt;. Have a great day!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Alright Doc,... I am SO looking forward to when we can get together again. Thanks for the confidence boost! &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Steer&lt;/span&gt; Clear of the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;hideous&lt;/span&gt; beast that is ME!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-954770686909115217?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/954770686909115217'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/954770686909115217'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2009/02/whats-wrong-with-me.html' title='Whats wrong with me.'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-5831120939488295316</id><published>2009-02-25T19:45:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-25T19:56:22.464-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Growing up a "fat" kid</title><content type='html'>You would be &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;surprised&lt;/span&gt; to know this but.... I was a heck of an athlete in high school.  Looking at my body, you may not believe me.. I have lost my "edge".. and any kind of corner that may have been there has been pushed into a somewhat "circular" shape... I know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But when I was in high school.. I was on the wrestling team..... wait, it gets better..... I also had a PERFECT record!! I was 48 - 0!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But you would be &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;surprised&lt;/span&gt; what happens when you come out ready for a match wearing the head gear with a pink "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;singlet&lt;/span&gt;" on........... and an erection.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was hard growing up a fat kid.. cause you miss out on some of those life &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;experiences&lt;/span&gt;..... like... I never learned how to swim when I was a kid...... cause I never made it 30 minutes past a meal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A friend of mine told me once "Brad, you should really not wear a stripped shirt like that... it makes you look fat."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Really&lt;/span&gt;,.. I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; think so. The &lt;strong&gt;shirt&lt;/strong&gt; does not make me look fat...  the &lt;strong&gt;Fried chicken and a 6 pack of beer every day&lt;/strong&gt; makes me look fat. The shirt is just PROTECTING you from the fat, so I think you should be thankful I have it on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-5831120939488295316?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/5831120939488295316'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/5831120939488295316'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2009/02/growing-up-fat-kid.html' title='Growing up a &quot;fat&quot; kid'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-28133374535120593</id><published>2009-02-24T09:44:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-24T10:04:01.781-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Getting help at the Gym</title><content type='html'>So I joined a gym a while back right... no results yet, but I guess that's whats expected when you don't go. So I went last week,.. and they have a personal trainer that will "guide" you through the machines on your first visit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The trainer that they set me up with was a female, and one of the exercises that she showed me was called "peck-flies". That is where you lay on your back on a bench with a dumbbell in each hand and do a cross over hugging motion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now she is leaning over me and spotting me, which is not a good position for her cause her breasts are now only three inches away from my face. And let me tell you,.. her breasts were so out of proportion with her body,... that they were just... BEAUTIFUL!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She's like "Ok, now you need to concentrate." Really,.. how the hell am I supposed to concentrate with your titties in my face lady?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had an urge for milk and cookies all of a sudden.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Got milk?" Almost!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I am doing these, and she is counting down the numbers and in between the numbers she said "That's it,.... &lt;em&gt;visualize &lt;/em&gt;the muscle growing.. 8...7...6.."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What the hell are you talking about... &lt;em&gt;'Visualize it?'&lt;/em&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am surprised you can't fucking &lt;strong&gt;SEE IT&lt;/strong&gt;!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-28133374535120593?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/28133374535120593'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/28133374535120593'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2009/02/getting-help-at-gym.html' title='Getting help at the Gym'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-2858760039685432491</id><published>2009-02-24T09:16:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-24T09:28:09.639-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Canadian Ballet</title><content type='html'>I feel like I am pretty cultured, right. I am starting to enjoy some wine tasting.. it just depends on how drunk I am and how much the chick says when I am "down there" before I get turned off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I was "exposed" to a part of culture that I had forgot about... &lt;strong&gt;The Canadian Ballet&lt;/strong&gt;. For those of you that don't know what I am talking about... I am referring to &lt;em&gt;Strip Clubs&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found something out when I was there,.. see the first four strippers that came out,... and they all had that "&lt;em&gt;area down there&lt;/em&gt;" &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;pierced&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WOW! I could not believe it... I figured that the Canadian Government must have been &lt;strong&gt;"tagging"&lt;/strong&gt; the strippers...... to study their &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;migratory&lt;/span&gt; patterns.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hit them with the dart gun, bend them over, tag them, and the release them back into their natural habitat so they can dance again and not even realize anything was touched. Like a fucked up French version of &lt;em&gt;"Mutual of Ontario's Desolate Commonwealth".&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-2858760039685432491?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/2858760039685432491'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/2858760039685432491'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2009/02/canadian-ballet.html' title='Canadian Ballet'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-919165943662895317</id><published>2009-02-24T08:56:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-24T09:06:34.491-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Getting no answers</title><content type='html'>I don't know what I did to deserve this, but this has been going on lately, and for some reason people seem to think that it is "&lt;em&gt;ok&lt;/em&gt;" to not respond to me when I talk to them.  It is happening to me&lt;strong&gt; ALL&lt;/strong&gt; the time now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I ask someone a question and they just stand there with this blank look on their face. I mean, come on, don't just stare at me, at least respond. &lt;strong&gt;Acknowledge&lt;/strong&gt; the fact I said something. Seriously, all I can think is &lt;strong&gt;"Screw you, I know you heard me!"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you don't like what I am saying, or don't agree with me, at least acknowledge the fact &lt;strong&gt;I AM TALKING&lt;/strong&gt;!! Especially if it is just the two of us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is such an awkward situation to be in, you know what I am sayin,... I speak, you don't say anything... I may as well be standing there with my dick in my hand... Come On!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just answer my fucking question.... &lt;strong&gt;"Does my dick look weird to you?!?"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-919165943662895317?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/919165943662895317'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/919165943662895317'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2009/02/getting-no-answers.html' title='Getting no answers'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-3486446010303175497</id><published>2009-02-21T13:33:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-21T13:43:10.209-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Customer Service</title><content type='html'>Its nice to have good customer service isn't it.. you go out, someone that is doing a great job at whatever it is just blows you away... really makes you walk away with that warm fuzzy feeling inside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hasn't happened to me in a while, but life goes on. I kind of feel the service industry is getting a little rude.&lt;br /&gt;See, I went into the grocery store by my house, the Metro, and all I wanted was to get a cake. Now I understand times are getting tough. There is nothing out in the glassed in cake area, like there is nothing on display. So as I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;approach&lt;/span&gt; the girl behind the counter she turns to me and says "I just put everything away cause I close in two hours. You have a problem with that?"&lt;br /&gt;Nope, not at all.... I was just wondering what kind of cake you had.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, why &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; you tell me what kind of cake you WANT, and I will tell you if we have it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt;, we can go that route... "I was looking for a cake that's not a Bitch."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning, we went out to breakfast... all I ordered was Eggs and toast.. not a big order right. On the table was a little plate full of jelly and jam. So when the waiter came to the table, I asked him "Do you know what the difference is between Jelly and Jam?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His reply,... "Well sir,... I cant exactly 'jelly' my dick down your throat."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought that was rude. Turns out he could... ended up being a bigger breakfast than I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;anticipated&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-3486446010303175497?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/3486446010303175497'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/3486446010303175497'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2009/02/customer-service.html' title='Customer Service'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-7073838014107921678</id><published>2009-02-19T09:14:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-19T09:27:47.234-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Telemarketer fun</title><content type='html'>I had a telemarketer call me last night, and one of the first questions out of his mouth was "Do you think you are paying too much for your auto insurance?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I said "Actually yes. I have been with this company for a while, but I think the reason my rates are high,... is because I plowed into a school yard full of kids shortly after I left a wine tasting. What can you do for me?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then he was like "I am sorry, ............I think I dialed the wrong number!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-7073838014107921678?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/7073838014107921678'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/7073838014107921678'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2009/02/telemarketer-fun.html' title='Telemarketer fun'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-9038977435027795028</id><published>2009-02-18T22:13:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-18T22:28:16.854-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Douche bag + douche bag = Karaoke fun!!</title><content type='html'>I like going and watching Karaoke, some of my friends do it ok,.. I get it. I don't get up there, cause I know something no one else knows,.. I cant fucking sing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But you know what I have noticed,... some people at Karaoke take this &lt;em&gt;WAY&lt;/em&gt; too seriously. And you know who they are when they grab that microphone,.. cause they have that same look on their face like "This is my chance!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And there is only one kind of person worse than this person, and that is.......... the husband and wife combo team! You know who I am talking about,.. they have the matching Karaoke jump suits on,... and they have been singing the same song every Tuesday night for the last 14 years.&lt;br /&gt;Its always "Love Shack" or "Celebration", "Islands in a Stream", "Summer Nights" or some other piece of garbage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last time I went, there was this couple that was singing "Love lift us up where we belong", and every time they got to the chorus,.. they would hold hands and raise them above their heads as if they were asking God himself to Lift them up. She was like five eleven, and was about four feet three,.. no one could have lifted her, ok.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could just see God up there saying "Mmmmmmm NO! You two don't belong up here,....you two belong down at the Legion on 'Two-fer night! Now scram!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-9038977435027795028?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/9038977435027795028'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/9038977435027795028'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2009/02/douche-bag-douche-bag-karaoke-fun.html' title='Douche bag + douche bag = Karaoke fun!!'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-2498753009232768689</id><published>2009-02-14T09:01:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-14T09:12:27.222-05:00</updated><title type='text'>My only advice for women</title><content type='html'>If I had any advice that I can give women, it is this: &lt;strong&gt;Your beautiful, stop telling us that your not.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wanted to do something nice for my girlfriend so I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;decided&lt;/span&gt; to take her shopping, right, I figured "That seems like a chick-magnet thing to do, let's take her shopping."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Know what she did? She called herself horrible things &lt;strong&gt;All Day!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're shopping and all I hear from her is "&lt;em&gt;I'm Fat! This shirt makes me look bloated! I'm Fat! My feet have &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;kankles&lt;/span&gt;! Looks like I have two chicken cutlets right here! I'm fat! My ass is huge! &lt;/em&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its like she is trying to brain wash me, not only do I have to listen to this shit, but now I am thinking "Man, I have a fat girlfriend"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; get me wrong, my girlfriend is not fat, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt;.....but when you hear that 94 times in a minute you start thinking "Jesus would someone tell this fat bitch to shut up! Hey, don't cry,... you look fat when you cry."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You ladies are beautiful, don't let us in on that, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt;.... cause all we see is your Bah-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;wa&lt;/span&gt;-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;wa&lt;/span&gt;-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;wa&lt;/span&gt; (ass) and Bah-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;wa&lt;/span&gt;-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;wa&lt;/span&gt;-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;wa&lt;/span&gt; (Boobs). I mean,... my girlfriend and I have been together for like a year, and I did not even know she &lt;strong&gt;HAD&lt;/strong&gt; a face, you know.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-2498753009232768689?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/2498753009232768689'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/2498753009232768689'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2009/02/my-only-advice-for-women.html' title='My only advice for women'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-2277138587159402279</id><published>2009-02-14T08:38:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-14T08:57:51.432-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Guys cant argue</title><content type='html'>I have yet to really see, in my life, a guy win an &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;argument&lt;/span&gt; with a woman. I think its up there with the Tooth fairy, The Easter Bunny,  and Santa Clause... they are all things that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; exist.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had an &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;argument&lt;/span&gt; once, and honestly I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; know how it started... but do we ever?  I can, however, tell you how it ended.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My girlfriend and I were really going at it,....... arguing, and she said, "Is that all I am to you? Are you just in this relationship for the SEX!! Is that the only reason your WITH ME!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I was like "No, sex is not the only reason I am with you,.. and to put it in perspective for you,... the bathroom is not the only reason I bought my house,.. but I would be pissed if you took it away!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Think about it. If I bought a house, and like say, 9 months later someone comes and rips the toilet out of the bathroom, and only lets you use it once a month and even then it really &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;isn't&lt;/span&gt; that good, I would be upset.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would probably go looking for &lt;em&gt;other toilets&lt;/em&gt;. Maybe even try out &lt;em&gt;several at one time&lt;/em&gt;. I have a white toilet, but maybe a brown one would be more &lt;em&gt;comfortable&lt;/em&gt;... I hear they make them in all shades,.. but I really &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; know much about that. Maybe really push the envelope, and get two toilets that &lt;em&gt;look the same but are not &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;related&lt;/span&gt; cause &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;that's&lt;/span&gt; kind of creepy&lt;/em&gt;, you know.. or even an older toilet cause I have always thought that would be cool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Are you still thinking about toilets??&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-2277138587159402279?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/2277138587159402279'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/2277138587159402279'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2009/02/guys-cant-argue.html' title='Guys cant argue'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-9009703367841168844</id><published>2009-02-12T08:46:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-12T09:25:34.389-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Getting over your ex</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I think everyone has been dumped at one point in their lives right. That can be hard to get over. You cant stop thinking about them, every time you go somewhere, you see someone that looks like them. Right. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I was dumped once, could not get over her. I could not stop thinking about her. When you get dumped, you cant stop thinking about people. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;My friend gave me the best piece of advice, he came over and he said "You know what your problem is dude, you got too much &lt;em&gt;shit&lt;/em&gt; laying around reminding you of her.You get rid of all this stuff, and I am telling you,... you  will feel much better."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;So I tried that,... I was laying in bed, and the pillows smelled like her,.. so I stabbed them. Cut them up into little &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;itty&lt;/span&gt; bitty &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;pieces&lt;/span&gt;. And he was right,.. I felt a little better. So then I went around the house and collected all the pictures I had of her, and ripped them up into little shreds and set them on fire on the coffee table, and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Pee'd&lt;/span&gt; on them. Wow, it was like this huge relief off my shoulders. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;And then,.... I got the hell out of her apartment, cause her place was bringing me down. There was so much bad energy in that room, and now I feel much better.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-9009703367841168844?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/9009703367841168844'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/9009703367841168844'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2009/02/getting-over-your-ex.html' title='Getting over your ex'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-1816274207461966871</id><published>2009-02-11T12:23:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-11T12:31:55.877-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Thinking about the Enviroment</title><content type='html'>Thinking about it today, and seeing all the ads for the "hybrid" cars I don't understand what the big deal is. These things have been around for years and they are still ugly. Why? They can make a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Kia&lt;/span&gt; look like one hell of a sports car, but for some dumb reason, the "hybrid" cars still look like shit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They are called a "Hybrid" but to me,.... they just look "Inbred".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You go try to put gas in on of those things and the damn hose goes limp in your hand. Then you have to rub it on the headlights,.. tap it a few times on the gas hole...asking yourself questions like "why does this keep happening to me?", then whispering to your car "its not you,.. its me...."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which brings me to another point.. I honestly &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; care if our oceans ARE contaminated with oil,.. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;that's&lt;/span&gt; what we cook fish in anyway. They are not dying,.. they are just marinating.. cut a hole in a lemon tanker, your half way there to eating anyway. Just trying to be proactive, you know what I'm &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;sayin&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-1816274207461966871?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/1816274207461966871'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/1816274207461966871'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2009/02/thinking-about-enviroment.html' title='Thinking about the Enviroment'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-7822743378276887820</id><published>2009-02-07T13:24:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-07T13:35:05.957-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Just realized today,.. I love public Transportation!</title><content type='html'>Holy crap have I been missing out. I always hear of people bitching about public transportation,.. the bus is late, the people smell on the bus in the summer, people stand too close to you when you ride the bus,.... and to those people I say... HEY! Things are not that bad!! Yeah Crazy people ride the city bus,.. but have fun with it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I rode on a bus in down town Toronto,.. and there were two guys talking on their cell phones. So I just pretended they were talking to each other. It was a really interesting conversation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first guy was trying to figure out how to cook a meat loaf so he was asking questions like "So how long do I put it in for?"&lt;br /&gt;and the guy sitting next to him was talking about some tramp he had sex with the night before and he was giving statements like "All night long!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I realized that the crazy guy sitting next to me was doing the same thing I was doing, but he just started flipping out.. cause he started yelling "That is NOT how you cook a MEATLOAF!! It will BURN! Someone tell that guy,.. it will burn!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the conversation just kept going, cause the one guy was saying "So what did you do to her?"&lt;br /&gt;and the other guy was like "put a butter glaze on it" and that is when I flipped out and started yelling "Don't do that, you will get an infection on your meatloaf!!'&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-7822743378276887820?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/7822743378276887820'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/7822743378276887820'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2009/02/just-realized-today-i-love-public.html' title='Just realized today,.. I love public Transportation!'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-1960501987692551275</id><published>2009-01-31T00:02:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-31T00:10:15.308-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Ever quit your job?</title><content type='html'>Everyone hates work.. if you did not have to do it, you probably &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;wouldn't&lt;/span&gt; do it. And if you would, well,.... your just a glutton for punishment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think, if I was to quit a job now, I would have to do it to where I knew that I would be remembered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Go down swinging, and know that a year from now, they would still hear the echos of my name in the hall ways.. but how,... what could I do...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I figured it out,.. just before lunch time,.. I would go around to the people I did not like,.. and ask them if they wanted to go in on a Pizza. Collect the money,... and just leave to "pick it up" and not go back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About 3:30 you know someone would be like "I don't think he is coming back!! I am &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;STARVIN&lt;/span&gt;! I am NEVER ordering out with people again!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But what if I get called into the office.. everyone knows when they are about to get &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;shitcanned&lt;/span&gt;... so that is the day I take the pocket full of glitter with me.&lt;br /&gt;My boss would be like "So Brad,... we have come to a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;decision&lt;/span&gt;.. and we have had to make some cuts,.. unfortunately your one of them..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then BANG! face full of glitter... good luck getting that shit out! he goes home to the wife and kids,.. "Where you been honey?"&lt;br /&gt;Oh I was at work... fired someone today.&lt;br /&gt;"Was her name Mercedes? or Lexis? You promised Ed... No more strip clubs!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;always stay away from the one with the glitter..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-1960501987692551275?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/1960501987692551275'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/1960501987692551275'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2009/01/ever-quit-your-job.html' title='Ever quit your job?'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-3235627131188487622</id><published>2009-01-29T11:32:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-29T11:39:11.050-05:00</updated><title type='text'>My Fiancee does it again!!</title><content type='html'>Is it just me,... or does your fiancee drive you crazy with questions that they should already know the answer too,..... but for what ever reason,...... &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt;??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not like "Whats the third chemical from the left on the Scientific Periodic table?"... cause that is something I can google and find out...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More like "Where are my keys! Have you seen my keys!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I thought I fixed it for her,.. made it simple... right. Simple thing for a simple person, should be a simple fix.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One word: Wrong!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She came home on Monday and I told her "Look, I have a solution for you and your keys. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;OK&lt;/span&gt;,.. See this right here.. its a cute little bowl I picked up for you,.. and it says 'KEYS' right on the side of it.. so your KEYS,.. go in the KEY BOWL.. see that... Keys.... in the KEY BOWL...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;When&lt;/span&gt; you come home from work, and you open the door,.. your KEYS,.. get put in the KEY BOWL.. simple right?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I come home yesterday... first words out of her mouth....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Have you seen the key bowl?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-3235627131188487622?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/3235627131188487622'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/3235627131188487622'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2009/01/my-fiancee-does-it-again.html' title='My Fiancee does it again!!'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-7419649016014710895</id><published>2009-01-28T09:40:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-28T10:06:19.769-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The internet has become TOO BIG!!</title><content type='html'>The &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Internet&lt;/span&gt; is so big now, that when you type in the &lt;em&gt;name&lt;/em&gt; of the website your looking for, and if you make a &lt;em&gt;spelling mistake&lt;/em&gt;,..... that is some guys website.... someone has &lt;strong&gt;that&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;That's&lt;/span&gt; how huge the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Internet&lt;/span&gt; has become. Case in point, the other day, I wanted to type in "&lt;em&gt;Google&lt;/em&gt;" to look something up,.. and my finger slipped, and instead I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;accidentally&lt;/span&gt; typed in "&lt;em&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;blowjobs&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;"... &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;OMG&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was up for three hours trying to find "Google"..... with my &lt;strong&gt;pants off&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The worst part is, .... they actually &lt;em&gt;kicked&lt;/em&gt; me out of that particular &lt;strong&gt;Starbucks&lt;/strong&gt;... which is &lt;strong&gt;bullshit&lt;/strong&gt;, cause I bought a coffee AND a muffin!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-7419649016014710895?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/7419649016014710895'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/7419649016014710895'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2009/01/internet-has-become-too-big.html' title='The internet has become TOO BIG!!'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-2113998529489392733</id><published>2009-01-27T20:29:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-27T20:37:41.193-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I figured it out.. all you need to do is look for your name</title><content type='html'>To tell if you are rich or not,.. you &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; have to check your bank account to see where you fall as far as classifications go for rich, middle class, or poor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its as easy as one two three. just look for your name.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. If your name is on the building you work in,.. Your rich. Case in point Barns and Noble... they are both rich.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. If your name is on the desk that you work at,... your middle class.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. If your name is on your shirt (sewn or button) your &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;friggin&lt;/span&gt;' poor!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you need to say something to the affect of "Hi! Welcome to ____________, how may I help you",... no one needs to point this out to you,.. but your skipping some payments on your visa, know what I'm sayin?!?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and lastly,.. if there is a number on your shirt,.. your a convict.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-2113998529489392733?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/2113998529489392733'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/2113998529489392733'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2009/01/i-figured-it-out-all-you-need-to-do-is.html' title='I figured it out.. all you need to do is look for your name'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-2538014911193884246</id><published>2009-01-27T19:41:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-27T20:00:33.148-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Just where do strippers get their names anyway?</title><content type='html'>I have never understood where strippers get their names from,.. so I did a little research for this joke... I went to a strip club.. or as most like to make it sound more proper.. a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;gentlemans&lt;/span&gt; club.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was there for about 5 minutes before I became numb to all the boobs in the room, not to mention the strippers on the stage.. and I started trying to peek down the waitresses shirt when she brought me my drink,.. cause after all, hers were covered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So these three ladies of dance came out on stage and the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Dj&lt;/span&gt; announced them coming out "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Alri&lt;/span&gt;-i-i-i-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;ght&lt;/span&gt;.. here they come,.. give it up for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;PORCHE&lt;/span&gt;, MERCEDES, and LEXIS!!" Man,.. I was taken back,.. so eventually &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;thru&lt;/span&gt; the 39&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; minute of the Nine Inch Nails song "Closer" they jiggled their way over to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I did what ever guy does,.. I struck up a conversation with them. I motioned for them to come over to me,.. money in hand,.. and like sharks around a chum drag,.. they raced over.&lt;br /&gt;So I asked them "Did your mom's really name you all after cars? Cause that is one heck of a coincidence."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mercedes was the speaker for them,.. and she gave me the old "&lt;em&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Pfffft&lt;/span&gt;! Really? Our mom's did not name us that,... &lt;strong&gt;We&lt;/strong&gt; named us that&lt;/em&gt;!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Really?" Why would you name yourselves that?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Cause,.. its what we &lt;strong&gt;WANT&lt;/strong&gt;!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and it got me thinking... instead of naming themselves after something they want, .... would it not have been better to name yourself after something you NEED??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can you imagine going to a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;stri&lt;/span&gt;..... &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;gentleman's&lt;/span&gt; club and hearing this.... "Ladies and gentlemen,.. here they come.... On the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;eighth&lt;/span&gt; day,.. God created..... &lt;strong&gt;Ed-u-cation&lt;/strong&gt;,..... &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Pen-icillin&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;,.. and &lt;strong&gt;Self-Re-spect&lt;/strong&gt;!! Here they come!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-2538014911193884246?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/2538014911193884246'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/2538014911193884246'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2009/01/just-where-do-strippers-get-their-names.html' title='Just where do strippers get their names anyway?'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-4806074641193579515</id><published>2009-01-25T13:34:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-25T13:46:07.719-05:00</updated><title type='text'>My wife lies to me</title><content type='html'>All the time, and I don't really ever know if its true, but I just take her word for it cause I really &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;dont&lt;/span&gt; know any better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a college degree, and she has her masters, so honestly I just take her word for it cause it just seems to make &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;sense&lt;/span&gt;. So now she just lies to me. The other day I was sitting on the couch with her and I turned to her and was like "Hey,.. how about a blow job?", and she said "No, you will get the flu."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What? How does that make any sense?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So she told me "See, I knew you would not understand. Your going to get all wet down there, catch a draft, and then catch the flu."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Made sense right,.. I was thanking her, "Holy cow, I never would have thought of that, you right. I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; want the flu, thanks."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So yesterday, I went and got my flu shot, and recommend you all do the same.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-4806074641193579515?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/4806074641193579515'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/4806074641193579515'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2009/01/my-wife-lies-to-me.html' title='My wife lies to me'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-9051005716307226727</id><published>2009-01-23T10:53:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-23T11:01:45.238-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Fast Food Servers</title><content type='html'>I have come to realize one thing about all fast food restaurants... If you go into one of these establishments, .....and the person on the other side of the counter is skinny....it only means one thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They are &lt;strong&gt;NEW&lt;/strong&gt;!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You should &lt;strong&gt;never&lt;/strong&gt; let the skinny 18 year old summer chick make your blizzard, cause they have no idea how much candy &lt;strong&gt;you want&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now that bitter 39 year old assistant manager with the star wars pin.... she fucking &lt;strong&gt;KNOWS&lt;/strong&gt;!&lt;br /&gt;And to top it off, she will be playing the old "&lt;em&gt;one for me, one for you&lt;/em&gt;" game when she's making it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-9051005716307226727?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/9051005716307226727'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/9051005716307226727'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2009/01/fast-food-servers.html' title='Fast Food Servers'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-5147136561951958403</id><published>2009-01-22T11:56:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-22T12:13:31.815-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Strip club DJ's and the lies they tell</title><content type='html'>Strip clubs are great.. go into one, you have pretty much seen them all. The only difference is the brass pole is in a different location. Even the DJ sounds the same from one club to another.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just once, I would like to slip some truth serum into that guys glass, cause all they do is tell lies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Here she comes, lets give her a big round of applause... on the eight day,... God created LEXIS! Here she comes!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the truth serum.. I think we all know they will be speaking to a different story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Here she comes people...... She's a single mother of three...... living in the back of a 1996 &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Hyundai&lt;/span&gt;... and is currently on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Valtrex&lt;/span&gt; and allergic to "the pill"..... ladies and gentlemen give it up for...... RUTH!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-5147136561951958403?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/5147136561951958403'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/5147136561951958403'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2009/01/strip-club-djs-and-lies-they-tell.html' title='Strip club DJ&apos;s and the lies they tell'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-3377835689061173256</id><published>2009-01-22T09:05:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-22T09:08:18.338-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Seriously, I don't know why, do you??</title><content type='html'>How come,...... I go every two weeks to get my hair cut. Every two weeks. First Choice hair cutters,.. $14.96.. Like clock work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It does not stop growing... its like Richard Simmons,.. or the energizer bunny. I believe the theme song to the hair on my head is "Can't stop, wont stop".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I have figured out the hair on my head is related to the hair in my ears... cause its the same way.  Some people reading this knows what I am talking about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here is the part that throws me for a loop. Shouldn't my pubic hair be tucked into my fucking socks by now?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-3377835689061173256?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/3377835689061173256'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/3377835689061173256'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2009/01/seriously-i-dont-know-why-do-you.html' title='Seriously, I don&apos;t know why, do you??'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-9124532477555705407</id><published>2009-01-09T11:35:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-09T11:48:43.141-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Its the same thing after every christmas</title><content type='html'>After &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;christmas&lt;/span&gt; its the same thing. You eat way too much, you drink way too much, and you spend way too much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well with all that eating, and drinking,... you put on a few pounds.. and this year, I think I have hit that point in my life that everyone gets too. and they realize,.. Shit, I have to stop eating,.. cause I am getting fat.&lt;br /&gt;And it pisses me off. I almost &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; even want to have sex, so I can spare someone the site of having to look at my naked body. I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; even want to look at my naked body.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I get all nude to take a shower, and I see my reflection, all I want to do is punch my reflection in the face! Ask him "Why do you look like that!! Start working out!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every year its a little more, but this year... WHOA!  Now I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; know that women get the same thing that men get when they get fat(&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;ter&lt;/span&gt;).  But this year, after the holidays, I was so shocked,.. and so angry with myself, I just wanted to punch myself in my fat upper dick area!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its like a hairy fanny pack you get there!! Right up front, overshadowing the painfully average size penis, just what every guy needs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Something there to make it look smaller, a nice little squirrel skinned fanny pack, all filled with disappointment, self loathing, and failure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That is one thing that will not help you get laid... a fat upper dick area.. that and Rock band 2.. neither will get you laid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But there is an up side... it matches the hair on my back. And that is important in this day in age, cause everyone needs to match.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-9124532477555705407?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/9124532477555705407'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/9124532477555705407'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2009/01/its-same-thing-after-every-christmas.html' title='Its the same thing after every christmas'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-7784019882285730511</id><published>2009-01-09T11:19:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-09T11:29:14.096-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Walmart announcements</title><content type='html'>Ok, so it has been a little while, christmas is over, the fun of shopping has passed, and now everyone, everywhere, is back to normal,.. accept in Walmart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was in walmart just after christmas, and my most favorite thing in walmart is the announcements.. cause you never know what you will hear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am still waiting to hear one that tops my all time favnorite.. it was in Cullman, Alabama. I was standing in line, waiting with the rest of the herd to pay for my stuff.. and I heard the following.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Good afternoon Walmart shoppers, if you are parked in the southern part of the parking lot, could you please move your vehicle, because we need to get our parking lot re-tard. Thank you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All I could think was... WTF?!? I have not seen some lazy eye'd guy walking around here in a my little pony t-shirt smelling like PB&amp;amp;J,.. but I will be sure to keep an eye out for him from now on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-7784019882285730511?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/7784019882285730511'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/7784019882285730511'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2009/01/walmart-announcements.html' title='Walmart announcements'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-6226119243114400431</id><published>2008-12-03T08:39:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-03T08:49:10.223-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Information learned from the zoo</title><content type='html'>I went to the Toronto Zoo and they have signs all over the park that tell you about the animals and also how to protect yourself from them.&lt;br /&gt;In the center of the zoo, they had this list of rules that tells  you about the animals.&lt;br /&gt;1. If confronted by a Lion - make yourself really tall and scream.&lt;br /&gt;2. If confronted by a Tiger - throw rocks in the opposite direction and stay really still.&lt;br /&gt;3. If confronted by a Cougar -  buy her a drink, tell her she looks twenty two, and wear a condom.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-6226119243114400431?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/6226119243114400431'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/6226119243114400431'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2008/12/information-learned-from-zoo.html' title='Information learned from the zoo'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-8235438253928234491</id><published>2008-11-22T19:53:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-22T20:06:22.193-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Things that should not be text Messaged</title><content type='html'>Its great to live in this day in age when you can just write something to someone and remind them of things to do, or what needs to be picked up, or what time you think your going to be home. Thats all well and good.... but there is still one thing that needs to be kept in person and left alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Keep drunk dialing to drunk dialing. Drunk texting will only lead to chaos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My girlfriend went out with some of her friends for a "ladies night"... no biggy,.. I went out with the fellas.&lt;br /&gt;Plan was to meet back at the house "when ever" and just go out for a good night on the town.&lt;br /&gt;Well,.. somewhere in there... my girlfriend got a little drunk. And she decided to tell me that.&lt;br /&gt;I got a text message from her saying "Hwat is up? whree are you guys? I tink your a sexyy best!"&lt;br /&gt;So I wrote her back,  "Thanks"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its a text message, not a conversation keeper. Use it like the US uses the Marines. Get in, get out.&lt;br /&gt;So I got another text message from her "No, tell me somehing hot. I cant wait to get you home! hWat do you want me to do to yu?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dirty talking, great fun,,..... dirty texting,.. remorse will set in and you will be reminded of what you write.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I wrote her back "I cant wait to get you on the bed and take you"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Take me whree? I want to blow you!" is what I got back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, so I am thinking, I want to get her mind going, but my phone was equiped with this "Txt word" option where it figures out your word that you typing and you select the right one that matches.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what I wrote her back was "I want to kick your puppy! You would like that wouldn't you"&lt;br /&gt;What I thought I wrote was "I want to lick your pussy"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the next message did not make sence to me. I opened my phone and read 'Why dont you like cuddles"&lt;br /&gt;Cuddles was her dog.&lt;br /&gt;I went to bed alone, sexless, ........... and never lived down the fact she thought I wanted to kick her dog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Conclussion: Disable Txtword on your phone, dont drunk text and save the dirty talking to person to person, over over the phone. It only leads to chaos.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-8235438253928234491?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/8235438253928234491'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/8235438253928234491'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2008/11/things-that-should-not-be-text-messaged.html' title='Things that should not be text Messaged'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-5257443137402894409</id><published>2008-11-18T09:11:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-18T09:18:56.521-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Getting TOO drunk</title><content type='html'>You ever pass out drunk,.. and leave something on all night? Has that ever happened to you? Yeah. Like a sock.... or a tshirt, maybe your underware.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It happened to me this past weekend. Guess I passed out after the casino... woke up with a random piece of clothing...like a Condom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did not even realize it until I had stood up, walked to the bathroom, started peeing.... and there was &lt;strong&gt;no noise&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It just started filling up like a water balloon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then it occurred to me... &lt;em&gt;Damn! I could have laid in bed another ten minutes!!&lt;/em&gt; &lt;em&gt;What the hell am I doing up&lt;/em&gt;..I could have tied this off and hit snooze.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now it has become my official new way to sleep late.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-5257443137402894409?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/5257443137402894409'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/5257443137402894409'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2008/11/getting-too-drunk.html' title='Getting TOO drunk'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-5456696603419885356</id><published>2008-11-12T20:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-12T20:29:12.386-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Dirty talk is just not for me</title><content type='html'>I don't know what it is, but I just cannot get into dirty talking in bed. Not sure if its that I don't know what to say,.. or if I just don't know where "that line" is. I am so happy to finally be getting some ass, I don't want to fuck it up now and say the wrong thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I forget to say please at the table I end up having to get up and get it myself.... what the hell will happen in bed, know what I'm sayin?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But you ladies,... you like that shit. So I was asked to talk dirty one time... and I have regretted it for the rest of my life... cause I said something stupid, and I thought it might be nifty to finally get it off my chest. Turned out,.... I am way outside the box.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Talk dirty to me."&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Do it!"&lt;br /&gt;Ok, fine.....I want to tie you up, light you on fire, and throw you in the trash.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"WTF!"&lt;br /&gt;Hey, it was your idea! All I wanted to do was make sweet love and just think that!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ok, forget that,.. just slap me!"&lt;br /&gt;In the face?&lt;br /&gt;"No!"&lt;br /&gt;WTF, I am not a mind reader!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Bite my nipples.."&lt;br /&gt;Clean thru? Spit them in the trash?&lt;br /&gt;"What is wrong with you?"&lt;br /&gt;I don't know,... All I wanted was to have sex with you and just think this shit, ok?!? You say 'talk dirty'... whats dirtier than the trash??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do they mean 'talk dirty'? Ladies say one thing, and guys think something else...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ohh yeah,,, talk dirty to me..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, I want to tie,................ your parents up, ........back to back. Then I am going to beat the hell out of them with a bat. Throw them in the trunk of a car, and drive that car over a cliff, and just as it goes over the cliff I am going to pop the trunk so they can see me fuckin you.... Hey where you going... Too much??&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-5456696603419885356?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/5456696603419885356'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/5456696603419885356'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2008/11/dirty-talk-is-just-not-for-me.html' title='Dirty talk is just not for me'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-3559981992868982846</id><published>2008-11-11T09:22:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-11T09:34:00.853-05:00</updated><title type='text'>One night stands....</title><content type='html'>Something you learn early on is,... not all things good end up that way. I had a little drunken one night stand incident. Late November, back in '01. Where the lady,.. peed....in my bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She totally missed my mouth. That's where I sleep! That's where I do arts and crafts, and read por... novels under the covers with a flash light.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had to spend my early Saturday morning Google-ing how to get urine out of my mattress.  I was shocked to find out... tons of answers!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However,.. all the answers were pertaining to pets. So I had to go to Petsmart, and hope that I did not run into anyone that knows I do not own a pet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The guy that helped me, Chip, was very helpful. He was like "Sir, what you need is natures miracle, it will lift the urine right out of the fabric and also deodorise the scent. Was there alot of pee?" was his question.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My answer........"It was almost....if... a person did it."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-3559981992868982846?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/3559981992868982846'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/3559981992868982846'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2008/11/one-night-stands.html' title='One night stands....'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-3381627887571529532</id><published>2008-11-08T13:24:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-08T13:35:38.853-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Joining a Gym</title><content type='html'>I looked into joining  a gym  by my house, try to get into a shape instead of just BEING a shape.. and they saw a sucker and jumped all over me. First,they showed me around...  we went to the snack bar, nothing but good food, at expensive prices. Negative one point to the gym.&lt;br /&gt;Then we went to the weight lifting area.. nothing but guys working out,.. sweating all over everything,.. negative two points to the gym.. its not looking good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we went by the hot room for a yoga class.. things were looking up... and it was in session. They had one woman in there that could have licked her own vagina... If she would have just listened to me, I swear to god.. .. ....&lt;br /&gt;There I am next to this mass of mussels named Robyn (yes she was a female) showing me around and all I could do is become a cheerleader...&lt;br /&gt;"You can do it honey! Come on! Get after it,. . you almost got it.. almost... GET IT! GET IT! GET IT! You want me to step on your back a little bit? You want me to get down there and do it for ya?   It looks delicious.... If you wanted we could split it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was thrown out of that gym today.... but now I am armed with a phone book.. so look out hot yoga gyms... cause The Fat Guy Is Coming to class!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-3381627887571529532?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/3381627887571529532'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/3381627887571529532'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2008/11/joining-gym.html' title='Joining a Gym'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-7337287142661492822</id><published>2008-11-05T12:55:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-05T13:09:55.826-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Suprise me</title><content type='html'>Being the guys-guy that I am,.. there is one thing that does not bother me, but yet seems to bother so many other men... and I cannot wrap my head around what the issue is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyone in a relationship has been asked to purchase things. Could be Deodorant. If your a girl,.. do you get embarrassed buying Old Spice? Maybe its lotion. Anyone can use that stuff for more than just hands and elbows,.. know what I'm sayin?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So why do guys get all jittery when your asked to pick up tampons? Embarrassment? Your a grown man,. everyone in the store knew they were not for you. And on top of that, to every female in that store, your a hero!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ahh, I'm sorry, your embarrassed.. don't forget you wife is at home bleeding from her vagina, things could be worse for you. You might want to get those things back STAT Jackson.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love the excuses you get.. "OMG have you see the aisle? There are wings, strings and all sorts of things!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Really? Are you kidding me? You want me to believe that if you, a grown, educated man, had to pick your wife up something to put in her most delicate area and you were not given EXPLICIT INSTRUCTIONS on what to get??&lt;br /&gt;Something tells me you were sent out with a little more than "Just not the wooden ones again."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because if I was going to send my wife out to pick  up something that I had to put in my penis,.. there would be sketches,...... receipts,... mapquest directions,... oh yeah, AND AN EMPTY PACKAGE THAT THE OTHER THING CAME IN!!! That way you can compare that shit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is one phrase that has never been said after someone was asked to pick up tampons... wanna guess what that is????&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Surprise me!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-7337287142661492822?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/7337287142661492822'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/7337287142661492822'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2008/11/suprise-me.html' title='Suprise me'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-2519861170641419747</id><published>2008-11-04T15:23:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-04T15:42:37.372-05:00</updated><title type='text'>You win ladies..</title><content type='html'>**Just a little FYI on this one,.. think of yourself at a comedy club,.. then read this, other wise, it makes no sense.**&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You win ladies.... you fucking win.&lt;br /&gt;Think of your man right now,.. and let me speak on behalf of him.&lt;br /&gt;He loves you... he does... with all his heart, he loves you, he loves you, he loves you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He wakes up every morning and thinks,.. "How can I keep this crazy bitch happy?"&lt;br /&gt;Cause your NEVER happy!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You can only complain.... "We never go out!" &lt;br /&gt;Bitch... YOUR OUT!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yeah, but its not a date."&lt;br /&gt;Really? then you pay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He loves you,... especially if he is here with you tonight... cause trust me, he could be out having fun... making his own decisions.&lt;br /&gt;But he is not, he is here with you,... in the shirt that YOU picked out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hey why don't we go out with my brother tomorrow night?"&lt;br /&gt;He does not like your brother, OK... He has his OWN friends that he wants to go out with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't get me wrong, OK... I love women,.. I do. Your all full of shit, but your fun.&lt;br /&gt;Remember when you were fun? Remember,.. the beginning of the relationship.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you were setting your 'trap'. Guys can attest to this. Married guys anyway.&lt;br /&gt;Remember when you used to let us pick the spot to go to,.. and after a little while we would always here this "Lets Party!! WOOO!" or "Your friends are awesome... they are so fun."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Six months later... "He's a dick! That guy is rude! Johnny always sleeps with my friends!"&lt;br /&gt;My personal favorite,.. "How much do you plan to drink tonight? How much have you had! When is enough enough?"&lt;br /&gt;When I pass out,... that's when I have had enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But ladies,.. and you know who you are. I have to hand it to you..... you are the only ones that can say "Fuck you asshole" with out saying a word.&lt;br /&gt;We say see you later,.. and then you let us have it...&lt;br /&gt;its very simple.. not alot of action...just a simple "See you later..." and the squinty eyes, big cheek smile, and the little head shake from left to right.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-2519861170641419747?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/2519861170641419747'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/2519861170641419747'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2008/11/you-win-ladies.html' title='You win ladies..'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-7736738388902960124</id><published>2008-11-03T15:45:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-03T16:11:25.331-05:00</updated><title type='text'>We're a team...</title><content type='html'>It gets me that women can say things like "We are a team" or "We are equals in this relationship". My personal favorite is "Treat me with the same respect that you want to be treated with". Really ladies? Look at your husband, boyfriend, or your affair. Look deeply into their eyes, square in the face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can tell you something about that man... He is not afraid of anyone! But he is afraid of you.&lt;br /&gt;Is that how you treat your "teammate"? That's the same "respect" that your looking for?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When his friends call him to hang out,.. he has to debate in his head,.. "Is this shit worth it?".&lt;br /&gt;It does not matter when your friends call you to go out.&lt;br /&gt;All we get is "Bye. I am going to the mall."&lt;br /&gt;"Where are you going?"&lt;br /&gt;"To the MALL! And you better be here when I get back."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ring...ring. I answer the phone, cause she is not home, and someone has to answer it. My side of the conversation seems to go like this...&lt;br /&gt;"Hello?&lt;br /&gt;No man, come over here.&lt;br /&gt;No, I gotta be HERE motherfucker,.... do you understand HERE?&lt;br /&gt;Why don't you come over here?&lt;br /&gt;Ahhh you cant leave either huh?&lt;br /&gt;Your wife is with my wife... "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If we did that to you ladies.... If we woke up Sunday morning "Bye, I am going to the game."&lt;br /&gt;"Where are you going?"&lt;br /&gt;"TO THE GAME! And you better be here whe....!"&lt;br /&gt;"Don't you EVEN talk to ME like that! I will kick your ass all OVER this house! You think you can just DICTATE to ME! I DON'T THINK SO! We don't have money for you to head out SOME GAME! We have PLANS today! I know its that damn JOEY that put you up to this shit, isn't it!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just keep on pushing all the buttons till we finally snap "FUCK IT! I am not going,.. forget it."&lt;br /&gt;Then whats the next thing that is said? anyone wanna guess??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I am not saying you can't go..." Really? ".....we just need to talk about it."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-7736738388902960124?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/7736738388902960124'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/7736738388902960124'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2008/11/were-team.html' title='We&apos;re a team...'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-5625956828610375073</id><published>2008-11-02T14:11:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-02T14:31:04.725-05:00</updated><title type='text'>When did voicemail get complicated?</title><content type='html'>I phoned a buddy of mine (we will call him Irvin) and had to leave a message cause he was out of the office. Turns out he puts out a new voicemail message everyday. Changes it, to reflect what he is doing each day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When did this get complicated,.. what happened to "Not in, leave a message"?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Instead, I get this three hour dissertation on what his day is like, and when he might be able to call me back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hello, you have reached Irvin. Today is October 31st, 2008. Happy Halloween. I am in the office today from 8am to 4pm, I am leaving early to get home and be ready for all the kids that go trick or treating. I will be in a meeting today from 10am to 11am, and then will be out of the office from 12-1pm. I have two scheduled interviews from 2-330pm, if this call is urgent please cal l me on my cell at..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When did you get a cell phone? Why the FUCK did you not say that in the beginning?!? I don't care what the details of your day are, let me leave a message and call me back. That is the way its been working for decades.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So he tells me later, "Brad, I am giving people information that  they either knew about, forgot, and should be reminded of. OR they never knew to begin with."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, fine. I am going to start leaving him messages with that same concept in mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Irvin, hey its Brad,.. Basenji's are the only breed of dog that cannot bark. Just letting you know.&lt;br /&gt;If you see an emergency vehicle travelling with its lights on, you should pull over. The deepest lake in the world is lake Baikal, and my mom has a gold fish named 'Fin'. What? That's random, why did I say that? Oh yeah, your a tool,.. call me back."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-5625956828610375073?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/5625956828610375073'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/5625956828610375073'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2008/11/when-did-voicemail-get-complicated.html' title='When did voicemail get complicated?'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-8387513606112931403</id><published>2008-11-01T20:26:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-11-01T20:45:27.309-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Living like I am married</title><content type='html'>I am not married, but I live like I am married. Why? I am practising having a wife. I think it shows consideration, and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;thought fullness&lt;/span&gt;. Most of the time I hear women want a guy with a sense of humor, but I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;believe&lt;/span&gt; that, cause I HAVE a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;sense&lt;/span&gt; of humor, and I am still not meeting anyone. I think women really want guys with big dicks and lots of cash, but that is not lady like to say, so they say "sense of humor" as code.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So to try a different approach, I am doing this, and living LIKE I AM MARRIED so I am not having to make that abrupt &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;transition&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For example,.. I shave once in a while. Not today, I am &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;angry&lt;/span&gt; with her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's right.... I put the seat down &lt;strong&gt;NOW&lt;/strong&gt;. Just for practice, it does not kill me.&lt;br /&gt;I put the roll on the spool &lt;strong&gt;NOW&lt;/strong&gt;. Out of consideration, its not that hard.&lt;br /&gt;I put a hundred empty bottles of shampoo in the shower &lt;strong&gt;NOW&lt;/strong&gt;, so I am used to it.&lt;br /&gt;I take myself out to movies I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; want to see. But before the movie, I argue with myself on where I want to eat first. No I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt;,.. yes I do, No I don't,... Yes I do,.. Then I just drive around and &lt;strong&gt;talk&lt;/strong&gt; to myself about places to eat.&lt;br /&gt;I sleep on the edge of my own bed &lt;strong&gt;NOW&lt;/strong&gt;, ensuring not to use any more than two inches of blanket as that is what my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;allotment&lt;/span&gt; would be to keep warm at night, even thought I would not really need the blanket cause the heater would be set at "Surface of the sun" &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;temperature&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;I pleasure myself, but &lt;strong&gt;ONLY WHEN I DESERVE IT!&lt;/strong&gt; Normally on my birthday, and around Christmas depending on the gift I buy myself. Its usually in the basement, with a playboy and a flashlight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;But most importantly&lt;/strong&gt;,.. I keep a list of every little thing that I do and say,... and from time to time I go back and read into it, so I have the capability to show it to people that I don't even know, at parties that I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; want to be at in the first fucking place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All out of love for her.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-8387513606112931403?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/8387513606112931403'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/8387513606112931403'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2008/11/living-like-i-am-married.html' title='Living like I am married'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-3063120150296077850</id><published>2008-10-31T14:51:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-31T15:09:21.941-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Cell phones that ring with a Song</title><content type='html'>I have just one thing to say about this topic, especially to the younger crowd. I don't care how cool or unique you think you are. If your cell phone rings, and it plays a song.... I am sorry, but your a douche bag.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its a cell phone, ok... not a theme song, your not batman. You have never had Peter Parker call you with an update on Spiderman... just your mom when its time to come in for dinner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's the thing, ladies, you can get away with it, your feminine, dainty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But when I see a grown man, with a singing cell phone,... you could not be any gayer if you were drinking a Zima sitting on Tom Cruise lap.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-3063120150296077850?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/3063120150296077850'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/3063120150296077850'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2008/10/cell-phones-that-ring-with-song.html' title='Cell phones that ring with a Song'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-1863674434261683695</id><published>2008-10-31T14:28:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-31T14:47:03.138-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Questions with Kids</title><content type='html'>I never knew how full my life would be when it came to kids... not full of love,...no... FULL OF QUESTIONS!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have learned more about myself then I ever truly thought I knew.&lt;br /&gt;Case in point,.. I did not know my fourth favorite fruit was pineapple. I know it now, after a question period with my neice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Brad, whats your favorite fruit?&lt;br /&gt;An apple.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"whats your second favorite fruit?"&lt;br /&gt;ummm a Banana.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whats your third favorite fruit?"&lt;br /&gt;I am not sure Deanna.. an Orange I guess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know what its like to have to stand infront of tons of reporters, cause if you hang out with 5 year old, its all you get.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Um yes, Olivia?&lt;br /&gt;"Why does my puppy dog stick to the fridge?"&lt;br /&gt;Great question, its because your doggy has a maginet on the back of it and the maginet sticks to metal, and the fridge is made of metal so it sticks to the fridge.&lt;br /&gt;Next question, Ian.&lt;br /&gt;"Whats your favorite colour"&lt;br /&gt;Well my favorite colour is Red, followed by blue, yellow, green, brown and orange.&lt;br /&gt;"How did you know I was going to ask you about those other colours?"&lt;br /&gt;Cause your 6 and its what you do, Next question, Olivia? Its because your dog has a maginet on the back of it.&lt;br /&gt;Next question, Ian?&lt;br /&gt;"Why are Olivias Ken Dolls brown?"&lt;br /&gt;Its because she is chubby and we think she should get used to it.&lt;br /&gt;Next Question Olivia?&lt;br /&gt;Its because there is a fucking maginet on the back of it!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mean its not like I dont love my child, cause I have loved them from day one. It does not mean I have liked them every single minute of every day, and if you have with your children, your dillusional and need theropy.&lt;br /&gt;Cause your not supposted to have the same likes and dislikes as your kids, cause your an adult, and they are children.&lt;br /&gt;"Hey daddy wanna play Legos?"&lt;br /&gt;Absolutely not.&lt;br /&gt;"How come?&lt;br /&gt;Cause I like sex and other fun stuff, thats why. Putting little plastic blocks together just is not any fun for me anymore.&lt;br /&gt;I tell you what, you stay here and play with your legos, daddy is going to go get a piece.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-1863674434261683695?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/1863674434261683695'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/1863674434261683695'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2008/10/questions-with-kids.html' title='Questions with Kids'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-9125730853070639057</id><published>2008-10-31T13:37:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-31T14:13:23.906-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Me and my new Doctor.</title><content type='html'>Don't ever move from one city to another, cause things happen you don't think about, like having to find a new doctor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We moved from Ottawa to Toronto not too long ago, and I needed to refill a prescription. We found a doctor taking new patients, and made an appointment to go in and see him.  So he did some minor tests, just to compare from the last time I was into a doctors office. He sent off for my chart history from my old doctor, and then did some comparisons.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right out of the box,.. he said "Bradley,.. I am concerned about your cholesterol."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Really? Why is that?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, it was high last year,.. and now here it is a year later, and it has only gotten worse."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, yeah,.. I figured that."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Really? How come"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Cause, I have not really done anything different."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's when I realized that its the only time as an adult that you feel like a little kid again. The Doctor looking down at you and you looking up at him&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You did not do what I told you did you?"&lt;br /&gt;"No,.. no I didn't."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What should you have done?"&lt;br /&gt;"I should have listened to what you told me to do."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What are you going to do from now on?"&lt;br /&gt;"I am going to listen to what you tell me to do."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"When are you going to start doing that?"&lt;br /&gt;"Immediately."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I told him that I needed my prescription filled for my pariot cause I get heartburn.&lt;br /&gt;This guy, that went to school for ALOT more years than me, goes and gets me a list of things that cause heartburn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am looking at the list thinking,... "I already know this........"&lt;br /&gt;So I told him, " I know how to GET it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's like going to the hospital with a post up your ass and they show you a list of how to get a post up your ass.. and all you can do is look at the doctors saying "I already HAVE the post up my ass,... I just need to get it REMOVED!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rule #1. Do not fall directly onto a post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So my doctor looks at me and while glancing at the chart goes "You should probably drop a few pounds Brad."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do you say to that??  "Thank you. Thanks for the confidence boost."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Go in for help, leave with the insults.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which leads me to another point.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just call someone what they are,.. if they are fat, say "Your fat". Don't try to soften it up for me.&lt;br /&gt;My grandparents used to call me husky. "He's Husky. Big for his age."&lt;br /&gt;No,.. I am fat. Husky is a DOG.&lt;br /&gt;Don't call me Big Boned, heavy, husky, plump, cuddly, or soft. I am fat. I know this. You should know this. So don't get offended if your fat and I describe you as that... Fact is fact, and fat is fat.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-9125730853070639057?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/9125730853070639057'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/9125730853070639057'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2008/10/me-and-my-new-doctor.html' title='Me and my new Doctor.'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-6091812398830775479</id><published>2008-10-31T13:13:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-31T13:24:01.728-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Banging Babysitters</title><content type='html'>Cant remember if I told you or not,.. I have a 21 month old daughter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Looks like we are keeping her. Which is fine by me, cause I have always wanted to bang a babysitter,.. and I think this is my gateway into that lifestyle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was always hard trying to bang a babysitter not having a baby.She would show up, ring the door bell, i would answer the door, "So you ready for your ride home?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Honestly though, I could never bang a babysitter... I could FINGER one though. Not like that is any fun for me... "Oh yeah this is great,.. wow,... this is awesome,... I cant wait to use my carmax later!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over the top?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-6091812398830775479?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/6091812398830775479'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/6091812398830775479'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2008/10/banging-babysitters.html' title='Banging Babysitters'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-6358182288577438932</id><published>2008-10-31T13:11:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-31T13:12:59.549-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Think before you speak</title><content type='html'>People say wierd shit to me here in Toronto. I was at Shoppers not too long ago, had to buy some Preperation H, I had a little problem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its the only thing I was getting,.. no lotto, no chocolate, no make up, no magazines... just Preperation H.The woman behind the counter looked right at me as she was scanning my only purchase and with a smile said "So, how you doing today?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Really? You think this is an impulse buy? "Well lets see, other than the fire up my ass right now, I am having a red letter day! And yourself?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The guy behind me is refilling his Herpes cream, maybe he is going on a picnic later. Fire in the hole lady, lets scan it, tell me the price, so I can get the hell to my car and APPLY IT!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-6358182288577438932?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/6358182288577438932'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/6358182288577438932'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2008/10/think-before-you-speak.html' title='Think before you speak'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-4092189398177503762</id><published>2008-10-31T13:08:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-31T13:11:04.545-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Interview Antics</title><content type='html'>Ever go into a job interview, look at the people that are interviewing you, and decide you &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;dont&lt;/span&gt; want the job anymore?&lt;br /&gt;Now you have to goof off&lt;br /&gt;!!&lt;br /&gt;"So Brad, what can you do for this company?"&lt;br /&gt;"I can do this." start snapping fingers and whistling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Can you tell us something about yourself?"&lt;br /&gt;"Well, I have pink eye, and my foot is asleep. Oh, and I have matching silverware for the plate in my head."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Do you have any hobbies?"&lt;br /&gt;"I like to collect ointment. I also enjoy lunging at people cause I think I can fly."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What do you bring to this company?"&lt;br /&gt;"Do you mean other than the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;head lice&lt;/span&gt; and genital herpes?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"We will be in touch."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-4092189398177503762?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/4092189398177503762'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/4092189398177503762'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2008/10/interview-antics.html' title='Interview Antics'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2092928543242602265.post-4047166983942127225</id><published>2008-10-31T13:03:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-31T13:08:48.852-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Conversations after Sex are WRONG!</title><content type='html'>After having sex I was asked what I thought was a pretty ridiculous question... she said "If I gained three hundred pounds would you still have sex with me?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First I was taken back... All I could think was "What kind of question is that?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But my reply was totally different... ever have that happen? Happened to me...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I ment to say was "Of course I would..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All I could reply was "Can a person that weighs six hundred pounds HAVE sex?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2092928543242602265-4047166983942127225?l=randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/4047166983942127225'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2092928543242602265/posts/default/4047166983942127225'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomthoughtsofafatguy.blogspot.com/2008/10/conversations-after-sex-are-wrong.html' title='Conversations after Sex are WRONG!'/><author><name>Zelda</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_udu651Vxj7k/SYCGY2qufLI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Ocwfhpol-ys/S220/themind.jpg'/></author></entry></feed>
