Skinny people fucking window shop when they’re grocery shopping!
I shit you not.
I was in the goddamn ice cream aisle trying to get my fix, and there they were, shivering, drooling, and staring into the glass.
They came in from the SKN & BONE Fitness Center next door dressed all in their tiny fucking ass shorts and matching tank tops. Then they stood there mumbling shit about carbs or calories or some other bullshit.
They had this pathetic fucking look on their faces like they just saw the cutest puppy ever.
Ya know, it would be sad if it wasn’t so goddamn annoying.
See, they’re blocking my fucking lane. I am there to find my lovers, Chunky Monkey, Cherry Garcia, and Chubby Hubby. I’m there to grab and get the fuck out.
I’ve got the meltage factor, and my pissy parole officer to worry about. I’m on a fucking mission asshats. Lives damn well depend on me!
Just get out of my goddamn way and move over to the produce section. The rest of your sprout munching liberal pussy friends are gathering for a quick support meeting.
Why do Skinny people usually have paper products and cleaning supplies in their carts. Well, that and precut, washed and packaged, salad and fruit.
Why is it that they spend 16 hours a day in the goddamn gym working out until they can crack a walnut with their motherfucking ass cheeks, but they can’t cut their own friggin watermelon? What. The. Hell?
I hate when there are a lot of skinny bitches in the grocery store at once. I felt like I was being stalked.
My cart was piled high with
beer, suzyQ's, and pork rinds. you know, real food. As I walk past, I feel eyes on my every move, and yep, these little waif-ish whores are following me around just waiting to fucking strike at my calorie laden shopping cart of love.
I want to scream, "Back off you skinny salad bitches and keep your goddamn bony hands off my piping hot French bread before I have to go all Mamma Cass fighting for a chicken leg on your asses!"
Depriving oneself of the basic pleasures of life will take a toll on ones mental well being. I'm pretty sure one of them skinny bitches will snap soon.
I'll round the ice cream isle one day, and some waif-ish whore will be. sitting down cross-legged (skinny bitches can do that) in the ice cream aisle, with sixteen pints of Ben and motherfucking Jerry popping the lids off, ninja style, while scooping the ice-cream out with her bare bony hands smearing it all over her body while speaking in tongues about the goddamn diet of the month.
Do yourself (and the rest of us) a favor, skinny bitches of the world.
Eat the motherfucking ice cream!