Ugh, I KNOW better than this!

A friend of a friend said Elizabeth Warren won’t be the candidate because she’s “crazy” and has “bad eyebrows” and he keeps calling the woman candidates “females” like a shitty Sir-Mix-a-Lot and I’m sorry but I have made a terrible mistake and argued about politics with a stranger on the internet, but also I want this man to get, like, six paper cuts later.

(Also, I don’t even CARE what Bernie OR Molester Uncle Biden look like, but if people can’t be president based merely on appearances and sanity, we wouldn’t have the current president and his caterpillar-ass eyebrows, and you damn sure can’t think Bernie looks calm, cool, and collected. Come the fuck on.)

The early bird gets the anxiety.

“Hey, Brain? I acknowledge I’ve made several minor mistakes this morning that could’ve been avoided easily if I were a better organized person. Could you stop being a dick to me about them for just, like, 3 minutes?”

“…Sorry, have we met?”

Listen here, jerkstore — I go see the nice lady tomorrow, and if I tell her you’re getting outta line, she WILL medicate that smug look right off your dumb face, dumbface. Get your shit together.

Oh, fuuuck YOU…

I’m shopping online for hiking shoes, which are apparently a thing I need for my goddamn VACATION? Fucking nature people. 🙄

Anyway. Guess which hiking shoe I’m NOT buying?

Capture1

Fuck you, you fucking “fashionable for ladies” fuckface. I don’t give a flying fuck if my fucking shoes are fucking fashionable!

…OK, fine, I totally care, but that’s not the MAIN thing I’m looking for. ASS. How ’bout you take your fashionable shoes for a hike up to Shut Fuck Mountain, jackass?

My 600-Pound Brain

The other day my friend made a side-by-side photo of her face on the day she started working out, and her face a few weeks after, and you can really see a difference — she’s lost weight and she’s glowier (totally a word).

I just did the same photo, and…welp, now I’m just gonna eat a whole pizza for breakfast because fuck this fruit bullshit, I look EXACTLY the same. My body is disloyal and this is just what I weigh. Maybe I’ll be a fat activist. Maybe I’ll just gain MORE weight and get my own reality show. I’m probably funnier than most of the people on My 600-Pound Life.

I quit. Send snacks.

Thank you for attending my tantrum.