Hey, Everybody...

Stop trying to convince everybody that you’re all about those fat girls on that body-image photo that’s going around.  I know we’re all open-minded and blah blah blah, but fat is fat.  Why is it okay for everybody to act ostentatiously disgusted when shown a photo of an overly skinny girl, but we have to pretend that an obese woman is as beautiful as a sunset?

We all have a body that we’re attracted to.  Some people even like it Shamu-sized.  But don’t try to convince me that you believe that all sizes are beautiful, because nobody really believes that.

You give any woman espousing this bullshit the choice between Mr. Beergut and Mr. Rockhardabs, and it’s not much of a mystery which one’s going to be going home with her.

I understand that there is a problem with the body image that is being sold to young women, but it can be just as damaging trying to teach them that it’s okay to weigh 400 pounds and that nobody will ever judge them.  Okay?  Do you see what I’m getting at here?

Now I’ll just sit back and wait for everybody to tell me how insensitive I am.

Rice-a-Fuckyou

I can make nearly any kind of food, if you give me a recipe and time to prepare it.  For some reason that escapes me, I am completely incapable of making the easiest food in the world, that San Franciso treat Rice-a-Roni.

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The rice never gets tender.  I put more water in, I turn up the heat and the shit sticks to the pan, but no matter what I do, it’s still crunchy.  I can make basmati rice perfectly in a saucepan every time, but for some reason this boxed bullshit vexes me at every turn.

Does anybody else have trouble getting this shit to cook right, or am I the only Tard-a-Roni in existence?

The New Batch

We got some new people today at my job, shipped in from various areas, and as usual, one of them rubbed me the wrong way.  He’s incredibly opinionated and forceful about those opinions, but without the counterbalancing intelligence that makes people like me tolerable.  He also never stops talking.  He’s the sort of guy who says he didn’t like 300 because it’s not “realistic” and actually thinks that’s a valid complaint.

Also, he looks like a young Everett McGill:

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I can’t decide if that makes me like him even less or slightly more than I would otherwise.

Two Conversations at Wendy's

We took Jill’s niece to Wendy’s today (because kids like Wendy’s), and during the meal we discussed the following:

Convo One

JILL: Look at that guy behind you!  I can’t decide if he’s a hobo or a dockworker.

ME (after looking): Well, since Salt Lake City doesn’t actually have any docks, I’d vote for hobo, but I don’t know…

JILL: He’s eating his fries one at a time.

ME: Ahh, making them last…or maybe he just has OCD.

JILL: He’s on foot!  If he walks toward the freeway, I’ll be totally right!  He is a hobo and not a longshoreman.

ME (laughing): If he was a longshoreman, he’d be a long way from his home state.

JILL: Maybe he hopped a boxcar and came out here, in which case, he’d be BOTH.  Ha!

Convo Two

(Jill tells a story about Fred Durst kicking her off stage years ago.)

ME: It’s because you weren’t properly star-struck.

JILL: I don’t get star-struck.

ME: Really.  Well, what if you were walking through Wal-Mart one day, and just happened to run into David Tennant and Jensen Ackles looking at vacuums together?

JILL: First of all, I’d be really disappointed that they were buying a vacuum together.

ME: It sort of ruins your fantasy threeway.

JILL: It’s not a fantasy if I’m being ignored.

There.  Now you know what we talk about in the real world.  Wasn’t that fascinating?

Redneck Ascot?

The Boy (Jill’s son) was performing some project in the kitchen.  He emerged into the living room with the waistband from a pair of jeans wrapped around his waist and affixed with the fly snap.

The Boy: I just made a fashionable belt!

Jill: I wonder where in the world you think that would be fashionable.

He went back into the kitchen, re-emerging with the strip of denim now tied around his neck.

The Boy: A redneck ascot!