My family, over the course of one 4-hour gathering: “Look how fat Aunt So-and-So got. And her husband’s no better, he’s about to keel over any day, he’s so big … Look at that woman on TV, she’s too heavy to be wearing that dress … Have you ever seen that show, My 600-Pound Life? So disgusting, I’d just stop feeding them all that junk if I were their caregiver … Hey, Smug, do you want some kielbasa or some cheesecake?”
Ummmmm… CHRIST the fuck, no. My surprise that I made it through life without an eating disorder is oddly filling.
First OkCupid message from a 26-year-old: “Well you seem like a great person to get to know. But i know you might think about it because of my age but if you know most older guys act like little kids and well i am more mature and i do like older women”
Does anyone want to be called an “older woman?” This is not flattering to me. I’m not geriatric, you little shit. I’m not eating cheesecake with Blanche and Dorothy out on the lanai. (Though that’d be amazing and IS my retirement plan.)
My profile specifies no one under 35 — twice. Clearly he saw that. But obviously what you want supersedes what I want.
Screw it, you guys — I am also running for president. The main focus of my platform will be universal pie and vibrators. In fact, by the end of my first term, I’d like us to have pie-brators. I’m not exactly sure what that would entail, but that’s where your generous funding comes in. Together, we can make the merging of baked goods and sex toys a glorious (if sticky) wave of the future. And gentlemen, I didn’t forget you — check my website to read all about my Fleshlight Freedom Initiative, coming (heh) in 2017.
Other key priorities of my campaign:
Very low-dose Xanax in the drinking water. (I promise not to create Reavers.)
Once-monthly days off for when you just can’t even, and also for when the weather is too nice to go to work.
Cute bras and clothes available in all sizes.
Food delivery through your TV, like when the Golden Girls have cheesecake, you can say, “TV, fetch me cheesecake,” and it WILL (see also: The Making “Fetch” Happen Doctrine — we’re gonna do it!)
A constitutional amendment banning alarm clocks.
All establishments that serve coffee shall also deliver it.
Barnes and Noble stores all get converted to huge, constantly-restocked libraries where you can just take books as you choose and return them if/when you feel like it. (Again, you send me money, I’ll work out the logistics.)
Stephen Colbert is Secretary of Everything; Anna Kendrick will be my Ambassador of Stuff.
Neil deGrasse Tyson and Bill Nye are the new co-leaders of the EPA.
And Amy Poehler will be my VP. Obviously.
So vote for me, people. With liberty, and punch and pie for all.
Except for Donald Trump and Kanye West. No punch and pie for you. No.
I get the biggest crushes on guys who work in my office cafeterias. I think it has something to do with them being bringers of snacks and coffee. My office environment downfall is hot guys near my food and caffeine. It’s like a stimulus trifecta: man; coffee; food. All things nibble-able and drinkable within a small radius.
And hey, this new guy is 8 years younger than I am, which means I AM a bawdy old lady, but I’m NOT literally old enough to be his mom. I am, however, young enough to finish him like a cheesecake.
C’mon, summer, hurry up — I work better in sundresses.