Cuppy cakes, cuppy cakes – everywhere are cuppy cakes.
From Yo-cakes, to GiGi’s cakes, to Happy cakes and cupcakes Y’all
Bland and spicy, sweet and savory;
every food imaginable they try to cram in the cupcake.
Burger cupcakes, fries cupcakes, no more Mr. Nice cupcakes.
Sick of cupcakes! Hate the cupcake! Want a big fat three-tiered cake
Made of butter-cream, and ganache, topped with raspberry jam or sauce!
No more cupcakes, want real food! One more cupcake will ruin my mood.
On the day of Yap Ye Iswa, Let us give thanks to Manatou(God), Kaia (Spirit), and Ku’ri (Jesus). We thank you Manatou for the earth, our home. We thank you Manatou for all the animals you have given us to rule over. We thank you Manatou for the river that runs, that gives a home to the fish, and place to wash ourselves clean and drink. We thank you Manatou for the rains to cleanse our land and renew all life. We thank you for the oceans and the bounty they possess. On this day of the Catawba, Yap Ye Iswa, we thank you Manatou for our people. May Manatou, Kaia, and Ku’ri shine blessings down on us so that we may one day be reunited with our tribal family, and our children’s children may never forget the struggles of the Iswa.
“____ county Sheriff’s Office, how may I help you”
“Is this the sheriff’s office?”
“yes”
“of _____ county?”
Really people? Open your ears!
Just goofing, I googled “i’m broke” just wondering what it would bring up, you’ll never believe this, people are virtual begging. THis is too funny, you are so broke that you must pay for a website called virtual charity or some crap pay for a paypal vendor account and pay probably for the computer, internet service, and power all so people can pay pal you a charitable donation cause you think you can make a quick buck off of someone who will feel sorry for you and send you a $10 charitable gift? Get real people, these are scams and you are falling for it! These “broke” people probably make $30-$100 bucks a month and sometimes more off gullable people who think they are helping someone out. You are paying for the grocery bill of someone probably making $40K a year. They are broke because they cannot quit using their credit cards, not because they are homeless and their children are starving. Cmon, if that’s the case, I should be able to put a paypal button on this blog and people just send me a check for NOT BEING GULLABLE! Please donate to the cause of the national foundation of not being an idiot and giving my money away to a moron!!! (and get a free tshirt). virtual charity…how ridiculous.
I just saw the preview for “ZombieLand” with Woodie Allen with a “please enter your birthday to watch this trailer” button. Come on…who in their right mind under the age of 21 is going to enter their birthday? Lets teach our kids to use math by having them subtract this year from 21 to find out their Zombieland trailer birthday. On the other hand, the trailer didn’t look too bad as far as zombie movies go. I kind of like the comedy twist. But considering the rape acronym (you dont Know? Forced Unlawful Carnal Knowledge, yeah dude it’s an acronym) was used at least three times in the trailer, I probably will play the old South Park drinking game while watching this film and will require my own enter your birthday to watch button on my invitations. Wondering what the southpark drinking game is? I knew you were. Watch Southpark the movie and each time you hear the lovely old acronym, take a drink. It is just that simple. I haven’t done it since college, but what the heck, I’m feeling nostalgic.
Give me silence, give me peace and relaxation, no stress..no stress..no stress..you deserve better than this; no you don’t..you’re spoiled, you’re overwhelmed, your over everything, you’re on your own. your happier when he’s home, he’s tired too, your relationship should be stressed, why isn’t your relationship stressed? give us peace, give us a break, a home, a means to a home, give us the want and desire to make it a home out of what we have, we have nothing. give me space again. give me amnesty. give me room to breathe..I do like my room. room to breathe, room to space to space to room says he who gives me none. he orders me about, all the while poking me with sticky fingers on my page, crushing my arm with the weight of my world, my need for freedom alone in a room for a week in silence and then he says I love you and all the room in the world couldn’t keep me away from him. The sense of silence is underestimated and underappreciated. silence, that’s what I need the sound of rat tap tapping of a keyboard and nothing else. 75 words per minute is all I wish to hear. 75 thoughts per minute is what I have. ode to randomness ode to disorder, how I miss you so. ode to freedom to youth to music and poetry, ode to silence and the sense of it.
Have you ever thought about “the nothing”? You know, in The Neverending Story, the nothing consumes everything in its path. Was it the personification of writers block by the author, or is it just a metaphor for what life can sometimes bring you. The nothingness that consumes your everyday. Consider your telephone calls. Ring, ring….
hello
what are you doing
oh..nothing
Even when you are doing something, do you not usually say nothing? Or when someone walks by your desk and ask you what you’re doing, oh…nothing. Or when you ask your child, who is obviously knee deep into something, they always answer nothing. Does not our very existence seem to coincide with nothing. What do you want to do after a long day of work? nothing. What do you want to do after a long week? nothing. What do you want for your birthday? nothing. What do you want for Christmas? nothing.
The truth is the nothing was never void of anything, it consumed all in its path, just like the obligatory nothingness in your life. You are never just doing nothing and you never want nothing for your birthday or Christmas. Nothing, in this case, is the absence of thought (and a double negative - my whole case in point). You don’t want to take the time to answer that question, so you just say…nothing. So when does nothing become something? When you open your little pea brain and think, and your little pea mouth and say…something, anything, all things, just not “nothing”.
Yes, call me shallow, but I miss being one of the beautiful people. At 29 years old, I am no longer one of those people. Why do my genetics not carry a beautiful forever card? With more chins than I care to admit and short dumpy legs, why can’t I be like the gorgeous girls, that even fifty pounds overweight has a certain jenosequois? My family, who btw looks like they are carved out of cream cheese until they’re about 24, we just loose that with the growth of our ass. Perhaps it is the love of all things delicious, or perhaps it is the fact that this square thing in my lap calls to me day after day and the only callouses on my hands are from the guitar I play SITTING DOWN. I come home from work and to my husband I say, “babe, rub my feet I’ve been off them all day.” Perhaps America’s generations why and now have destroyed what outer beauty I had left. Truth is, no matter how many colors I color my hair, it doesn’t change the fact that, at a measly size 10 (and the fact that I just said measly proves my point,) I am a cow. It is inexcusable to excuse it because the average American is now easily a size 10. Take into consideration my short almost dwarf size stature, I look like the little blueberry girl on Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Perhaps if I ate more blueberries and less blueberry cobbler while sitting on my ass, I wouldn’t have the need for a five course piece of gum that turns me into a big juicy blueberry. Oh what metaphorical genius that book is! Who needs five courses? Eating five courses while slurping down a big fat diet coke and calling it a day, no wonder people like Ben and James say fuck fat America. LOL, all the while Ben and Jerry say thanks fat America!
Truth is, even if I lost thirty pounds and got back into a size 6 or 8 (because I have hips that will never allow me to get back to a 4 and isn’t the new 4 a 6 or 8 anyway), I still would never be one of the beautiful people again. Nope, after 24, It all goes down hill, and looking older than my four year older sister just makes it impossible. All my life, she has looked like the younger sister, perhaps it is because she still acts 22 and I act 40.Perhaps it is making up for the age difference between my husband and I. Either way, it doesn’t make up for the proverbial mind fuck I get each day that I look in the mirror. Grow old gracefully? That is for the 63 year old ladies that still look like Sofia Loren. The only thing that would help me is some good ol’ sit ups and Spackle.
Two posts about fat America from two skinny guys:
James Harmon:
It’s difficult for me to find clothing as it is – I’m six feet three inches tall and I’ve got an awkward body shape. But, it’s not like it’s really been that difficult. In the past, I’ve been able to find pants that are my required 34 inches in length, to meet the demand of my ridiculously long legs. There’s never as many 34×34′s as there are 34×30 – in any store . . . but most stores used to carry a few 34×34′s – it makes sense. Some people have long legs and the manufacturers recognize this – which is why they used to make sizes that we’re a bit off on the proportions. But . . . things have changed.
Do you know how hard it is to find pants that are 34×34 now? First of all, the pant sizes aren’t legitimate. Much to my amazement, most pants that say “34 waist” are in actuality 40 to 42 inches, with ease. Which makes pants that say “34×34″ a fucking flat out lie. So, I try to find pants that are 28×34, to compensate for this mathematical bumblefuck – but that shit doesn’t work, because from an outside perspective of not knowing that the pant sizes are three sizes bigger than they actually are, you’d hear from a lay person: “No one is shaped like 28×34 – and if they are, they should go to a big and tall shop.” . . . so naturally, it doesn’t get made. In the real world, 28×34 isn’t practical – but a 28×34 that’s actually a 34×34 fucking IS!
I can’t find pants that fit me anymore. They don’t exist. It’s not as if it’s a miscalculation of numbers, because the 34 inch LENGTH is accurate. So, that means manufacturers have just shifted the numbers over a couple of notches so Americans can feel better about their fucking waistlines. You take an extra large t-shirt and you put a big ole “L” on the tag, and the public doesn’t notice they’re gaining weight – on top of that, they’ll be MUCH more likely to buy the clothing if they think they can fit into clothes that shouldn’t fit them at all. Thanks – thanks for that. Because of the ever expanding public waistline, I can no longer find pants that fit me. 34×34′s are actually 40×34′s – and the sad part is, the 34 waistline was a size that gave me optimum comfort – I can fit into a 30 or a 32.
It’s just . . . all downhill from here, folks. It’s amazing that we’ve gotten this far. I, for one, will be wearing these pants for a very long time – unless of course I increase my sugar intake to outrageous gastronomical proportions.
Seriously, thanks dick.
Ben Kirkland:
Fuck you Fat America!
I was working out of town and needed some thermal shirts and sweatpants- it was butt-ass cold – and the only place that sold clothing in the area was Hell (Wal-Mart)
Fuck Wal-Mart.
There they were, on display, 300 packages of thermal shirts.
300 – 6 rows of 5 cubbies with 10 shirts per cubby.
Not one goddamn size Small!!!
Medium, Large, X-Large, XX-Large, and 3X-Large!!!!
Not one goddamn size Small!
Sweatpants.
Row after row, stack after stack, Medium after Large after 4X-Large.
No smalls, goddammit!
So I bought a Medium thermal, left the sweats, got to where I was staying, and put on the shirt – too fucking big.
I waited until I got back to the home town and returned it to another Hell in search of a size Small. Another display of 300. No such luck.
What the fuck?!
I checked the boy’s section in hope, but they weren’t selling any thermals for kiddies. No sweatpants long enough. I took my cash and left.
Fat fucking America. They don’t sell small thermals because there isn’t as BIG a market as X-Large. Jesusfuckingchrist!
and it’s not just clothing…
Did you know they’re having to revamp the rides at Disney World to accomodate the average weight of modern Americans?!
“Back in 1963, when the boats that carry customers through Disneyland’s “It’s a Small World” ride were designed, the average male weighed 175lbs and the average female 135lbs. Not anymore. Disney is now undertaking a massive renovation in which the boats will be redesigned and the flume deepened to accommodate the additional poundage.”
Not so small after all, huh?
I can’t help the genes I received, but I shouldn’t have to search for the jeans I need (28-30 waist).
I think it’s funny, that men and women once had a problem finding plus-size clothing, and now I’m having trouble finding what-used-to-be-normal clothing.
When did being “fat” become okay? I don’t have a problem with humans, people of size included, but accomodating an unheathy lifestyle riddled with heart disease, diabetes, and other problems and accepting it as the norm is beyond me.
Large people – I love you, but at the moment, I’m a little miffed.
To both of you skinny mother fuckers:
Fuck you! I’m fat America! How’s this, Fuck you tall America! Try finding pants with a 28″ inseam, they don’t make them. Ever! The shortest inseam is a 29. And even in my skinny days at a size 4 I was still fat America because I have hips and ass, get the fuck over it! Hire a freaking tailor like the rest of us or learn how to sew. Sewing macines are $100 bucks a corporate Walmart that you hate so much, go fucking buy one!!! Seriously, you are both geniuses, but not everyone has the genetics of a beanstalk and if it makes me rise in the morning and my pants say 8 instead of 10 then so be it. Figure out your fat size dudes, or shop in the little boys section, its the one next to the little girls section with the fucking 28″ in-seamed pants.
