Angry Fat Pony

I'm in a crappy mood today.  I know, this is, like, breaking news.  After a couple rounds with Ass Kicker, my knees hurt super bad.  This makes me angry and depressed.  I try and make changes and the universe is against me. I'm totally pissed off, which, while better than being pissed on, it's still piss.

You know how some people might go home and kick the dog?  Not me, I kick skinny people. Case in point, I walk past this little thing, let's call her Metabolic Barbie.  She's had two kids. She's tiny and cute and perky and she was eating fast food at her desk.  I walked up to her and said, "I hate your guts, and let me tell you why.  You have babies, you eat fast food and you have crazy metabolism and I hate you.  It's people like you that make me crazy."  She just laughed and said that she had a chicken sandwich.  Like that's what is keeping her thin. Yeah, what about the fries and soda?  Skinny bitch.

Then, another one of our skinny gals, Lotion Barbie, sends out an email.  Turns out someone stole her lotion. Apparently, it's expensive, but she says she won't be mad as long as it is returned.  I sent her an email back that said the following, "I like your attempt at remaining friends even after the theft. What if someone like me, that has a large area to cover, took it?  That 17 oz is going to go fast.  I wish you the best of luck with your lotion recovery. P.S.  It wasn’t me.  I’m pulling for you that a skinny girl “borrowed” it." 

It  appears I am waging war on skinny girls, but fear not, I believe in equality.  I was talking to Alligator Horse Guy and it turns out that he is doing P90X, but that he does allow himself to eat "Fourth Meal" at Taco Bell.  I cursed him and his man metabolism.  Bastard.  Don't you dare be a guy and talk to me about porking out at "The Border" and then telling me you know what it is like to lose weight.  Don't even try it.  With man metabolism, every time you even look at a piece of celery, you don't even have to eat it, you lose five pounds.  Don't even deny that you don't.  

Then, a group photo is taken today of all the managers and lead reps and when I look at the picture, you've got High Heel Barbie standing there, legs up to her neck, high heels and she bends her knee and looks all cute, just like she learned on America's Next Top Model or Cosmo or whatever.  Then Cross Fit Crazy is hiding in the back because he doesn't want his in-shape, well dressed body in the picture.  He looks like a creepy guy that just wanted in the picture.  Then, various other people are in weird poses.  I pulled up the picture on my computer and proceeded to mock everyone for their facial expressions, arm and leg placement and their attitude.  No one was safe today.  No one.

My friend Valerie's daughter came in to visit today and I saw her walking in from my vantage point.  I instant messaged Valerie and said, "Hey, I just saw a fat girl and a kid walking in, I think your daughter is here."  Mind you, her daughter is pregnant and looks great, but I "affectionately" referred to her as the fat girl because I'm mean.  I'm a hater.  That girl is going to crap out a baby and look just fine.  Not me.  I might crap out a taco, but I'm still going to be a fatty.

This is clearly why I need therapy.  I tried to find a therapist this week that specialized in weight loss and depression and grief counseling.  Surprisingly enough, eventhough America is full of fat-asses, there are not that many out there that specialize in weight issues.  I finally find one and call her.  Turns out she has a waiting list.  Yep, all the other fatties got to her before me.  Looks like I am S.O.L.  I'm on the waiting list though, so as soon as she gets one skinny and cuts her off, I think I'm in.  I'm number five on the waiting list, so I have to hope that the other fatties give up hope, die or find another solution.  Fingers crossed.

Anyway, I guess that is enough hostility for today.  I'm thinking about changing my blog to Angry FAT Pony. Yes?