And Finally, A Cologne for You Chubby-Chasers Out There

Are you a man who is completely and overwhelmingly attracted to great big fat women? Are you having trouble seducing these rotund Aphrodites? Pheromones not attracting these large babes the way say... the enticing aroma of meat might? Well cheer the fuck up Charlie, because you are in luck this holiday season. To coin what I'm sure will become an immensely popular phrase, flame on!

The way to a man's heart may be through his stomach, but the way to a woman's heart — according to Burger King — may be through a new meat-scented body spray.

Of course, it's a treacherous path to said heart, filled with lipids and blockage from all that flame broiled deliciousness, not to mention all those cheesy tots. But seriously. Let's all take a step back and drink that in for a minute. A meat-scented body spray. Meditate on that.

While fast-food chains aren't exactly best known for selling signature fragrances, on Sunday The Home of the Whopper rolled out a men's body spray called Flame by BK. The 5-ml bottles are available for sale in Ricky's stores in New York City and on a dedicated Web site, firemeetsdesire.com.

That's right. Fire meets desire. If someone can explain that to me, I would greatly appreciate it. My question is this - has this been rolled out to garner attention from assholes like me? So that it will be purchased solely as a novelty, joke-type item? Does it really smell like meat? If so, is there a disclaimer about using this body spray in the woods and on camping trips and such?

If you're salivating for a chance to marinate yourself in flame-broiled flavor, relax: The experience can be yours for just $3.99 — a small price to pay for some seriously mouthwatering mojo.

That's right chubby-chasers. This shit is all for you. Because this shit:


Would never fucking happen. ...or would it?

"My assumption when I heard about it was that it would smell like french fries and burgers," said Luis Bejaran, 24, who manages a Ricky's store on Eighth Street in Manhattan. But, he said, that wasn't the case. "It's a combination of Axe body spray, TAG and this YSL cologne I have. It's one of those scents that's not sweet, and light at the same time."

So... it smells nothing like meat? Now I'm just flat-out confused.

While Bejaran said he would be certainly be willing to set his body a-Flame, his female co-workers were not so sure about its meaty merits. "It's not the best choice for a man," offered one.



My guess is that if he's managing a Ricky's, his body is already quite flaming enough as it is, thank you very much. Stupid easy jokes aside, His female coworker is probably not a huge fat pig, which is why she is sooooo not the right person to ask about this. Sell this shit in the south, not NYC, you guys are totally shooting for the wrong demo here.


Still, as of Wednesday afternoon Bejaran says the store had sold at least 10 bottles, and plenty more people had stopped in or called to inquire about it. Many were drawn in by the store's window display, which currently features "the Burger King guy, half-naked," said Bejaran. Only four Ricky's stores were lucky enough to get the "King" special window treatment, however.

See, I would absolutely want one of those window treatments, as they are hilarious:

The cologne itself, however? Not so much. Also, how many fucking Ricky's are there, if only 4 were lucky enough to get the 'royal' window treatment? How many Ricky's do we need, really?

It's true that the reclining, vaguely nauseating Burger "King" does not make for the sexiest spokesperson, but his appeal, like the fragrance itself, may lie in its ridiculousness.

"Yes, the first thing that comes to mind when you think of our cologne should be something vaguely nauseating. That is precisely what we were going for." Though to be fair anyone who would wear the cologne or anyone who would be attracted to someone wearing the cologne, is in all likelihood, at the very very best, vaguely nauseating.

So Maybe I was Wrong, But Heaven Sure is Well... Heavenly

Hi there. Remember me? So maybe my veins decided to be a little less pesky for you. But guess what you skinny fucks. I'm sitting on a cloud right now, sippin' on an apple-tini and eating some cereal. Whats up? Want to know how it all went down? Let's take a peek.

Ohio executed a 5-foot-7, 267-pound double murderer who argued his obesity made death by lethal injection inhumane.

Yea well guess what assholes, it hurt like fuck. Don't let anyone tell you that's humane. Once the poison hits your bloodstream and gets to your brain it makes you think some fucked up thoughts! All of a sudden my life flashed before my eyes like a roadslut's titties on whip 'em out Wednesday! Shit had a real weird bitter taste too. Whatever... Just know that I'm watching you shower.

Richard Cooey, 41, died at 10:28 a.m. Tuesday at the Southern Ohio Correctional Facility in Lucasville, said Jim Gravelle, a spokesman with state attorney general's office.

The moment my soul shook loose its mortal coil, I was shot like out of a cannon up to heaven where I came face to face with my maker. His name is Herman, in case you were curious. He's funny, likes action movies, and can't drive a stick shift. Also seems to buy any horse-pucky you want to sling at him: "Yes Herman, I'm soooo sorry for the rape and murders. Now let me into your beach party." Hook. Line. Sinker.

Cooey's attorneys had argued that his weight problem would make it difficult for prison staff to access a vein. A prisons spokeswoman said Cooey received a pre-execution exam early Tuesday and was cleared.

The only time you're ever bummed to pass a physical when you find out you're healthy enough to be stuck.

Cooey, who killed two University of Akron students in 1986, walked into the death chamber at 10:15 a.m. wearing gray pants and was strapped onto the gurney.

What they wont tell you: When I walking in to the death chamber there was a massive boner beneath my gray pants. Wonder why they didn't mention the fucking awesome Hawaiian shirt I was wearing.

"You (expletive) haven't paid any attention to anything I've said in the last 22 1/2 years, why would anyone pay any attention to anything I've had to say now," Cooey said looking at the ceiling. He made no other comment.

Yes, I said it looking at the ceiling because I was fucking strapped to a gurney you shitstain. Besides, what words could I have left them with? Why would I give a flaming fuck what those people thought of me?

Cooey tapped the fingers of his left hand several times before he died and his face took on a purple shade.

I was mid-wicked drum solo to Baba O'Reilly in my head when it hit. Rocking out with my Cockring out till the very end motherfuckers. And I'm still doing it up here too. Me and Moonie even hang out sometimes, though I have to drive.

Six family members of one of his victims watched the execution. Summit County Prosecutor Sherri Bevan Walsh said the family was disappointed that Cooey was vulgar and hateful at the end.

What did they want? A hug? The fact that their relatives were so fuckable/killable was what got me in that mess in the first place! I'll tell you what's vulgar. Stabbing a defenseless fat man in the arm with poison needles. That's what.

Anyway, I guess you're all probably wondering what it's like to be dead. It's not that different from being alive really. Sure the beer's always cold and the fish is always fresh, but it's not all different. Sometimes you don't wipe so good and wind up with skid marks. Sometimes the car craps out and you have to take it to the shop. And gas is expensive as hell up here too folks. But don't bother whining to Herman about it, like he gives a shit. He's right now sitting in an inflated kid's pool in his underpants drinking a brewdog, waggling his dong at some high school girls that died in a cheerleader bus accident a few years back. No age of consent up here either, which is mainly because you don't really need to pursue relations, you're just kind of constantly in this state of awesome warm tingliness. So the dong waggling doesn't really bother anyone because it's like why bother. Herm's just a sick silly fuck that way. My parents are here, but there usually off playing bridge or making pies for me to have really gotten the chance to kind of interface with them about how them molesting me and keeping me in a cage for the better part of my youth may have wound up screwing me up a little bit. But I will, and I am going to eat the shit out of those pies. Also there's always music playing, if you're into that sort of thing. You just sort of think of what song you'd like to hear then BAM! there it is. No one else can hear it, which is nice because you can crank that shit and rock out and still be respectful to your neighbors. The biggest difference might be that you appear to everyone as you see yourself, in an ideal sort of state. Which is awesome, because if you'll recall, when I bought the farm I was a fat sack of shit. Look, I gotta jet, I'm going to go school some folks at Rock Band - the entertainment center in this place is fucking dope! Anyway, see you soon. You, specifically. I'll see you in like 8 days and... 6 hours and 14 minutes.

You Did It Again Big Guy!!!!!!

Manuel Uribe, whom you may recall from such adventures as: trying to leave his house! Or, Getting fork-lifted to the beach! is at it again. This time? Marriage.

I love you even though you have several breasts and they're all larger than mine!

The world's most obese man is getting hitched. Manuel Uribe says he will wed longtime girlfriend Claudia Solis on Oct. 26 in Monterrey, Mexico. The two will be married in a civil ceremony at a location still to be decided.

"The happiest day of my life was when I said "I do" and then the fork-life operator pulled up a little bit so we could kiss." How do you get around that? The guy is too fat to walk. It's going to be a little tough to get a suitable location that is both romantic and not insanely embarrassing.

Uribe is unable to walk, and leaving his house means being towed through the streets on his specially made bed.

See?

Uribe and Solis have been dating for the last two years. "We are in love," he said. Solis added: "I bathe him every day, and we get along very well. At times, yes, people say things ... that it's a fake relationship, but what we have is real."

At times people say things, like "Is there even a like minute chance that this relationship is remotely physical in any way?" "Does rooting through several layers of epidermis and fat just to find his dirty penis for daily bathing turn you on?" Look. I'm not trying to be mean. These are just questions I think we all want to know. Don't look at me like I'm an asshole. You know you're curious too, you self-righteous fuck. Also, I can't imagine telling a woman who is with a seven hundred pound man that her relationship is fake. She most probably has to seriously love him to stay with him for like 5 minutes, let alone several years. And for him, she bathes him and feeds him. So I guess if people said the relationship was fake in the sense that it was maybe more like she had a pet seven hundred pound man rather than a fiance, well maybe I'd buy that.

"I get lots of e-mails from people saying they are inspired by my progress and I want to get the word out about healthy eating. I'm not against people who sell junk food, but you've got to be informed not to eat it," he said.

See? It's not all fat jokes and me being a prick. That's pretty awesome - and I say that a concerned human being, not as someone who just plain hates fat people. Though I hope there's maybe some stuff lost in translation here, because if those are his words of wisdom, Susan Powter he is not. Unless maybe he gets really specific emails that illicit that type of response.

Dear Manuel, I'm inspired by your progress and trying to lose weight. Fuck Pringles, and fuck Shop Rite for allowing my fat ass to buy them, can I get an Amen? Anyway any words of wisdom for one of your biggest(lol) fans?

Love, Berbalerbs' Obese Sister Clarabell

Dear Clarabell,

Don't hate on Pringles, there's nothing wrong with the people who make them or sell them, just be informed not to eat them and perhaps do not buy them.

Eloquently,

Manny

Of course this is all assuming he's got his typing stick. Because otherwise an email from him would probably go something like this:

rgafhntdzsnstrkouilguiytr456senjhmn rgn xdbh

Woman Named Bacon Wins 1st Prize in Hog Look-a-Like Competition

Well, maybe not exactly... but COME ON! Look at her!

They say a pet owner often comes to resemble his pet, so it should be no surprise to learn that this is a woman with several pigs.

Jolee Bacon really sizzles when it comes to hog-calling.

GET IT! Sizzles?!?!?! That's even shittier than my play on words would have been: "Jolee Bacon may do hog-calling, but any hog with working eyes aint callin' her back!" or "Angelina Jolee Bacon: Not Wanted", or "Jolee Bacon sure is fucking gross looking!" Whatever. Fuck you.

The northern Idaho woman took first place Saturday in the competition at the Nez Perce County Fair.

She also won the pie-eating contest and took home the prize for "sweatiest", but neither of these accomplishments garnered attention because her name is Bacon.

She has raised several champion pigs for 4-H contests. Bacon says she calls pigs every morning and night with her 9-year-old daughter, Jacey.

She then went on to clarify that despite what we were all thinking, Jacey is not one of those champions. When asked what exactly, she calls these pigs, Jolee said, "Lover, sweet thang, fuck toy, Bobby Dean... I gots all kindsa names for 'em. Mostlys I just tries to waits till theys big enough before I eats 'em. Sometimes I fergets and bites 'em whiles theys still walkin' round the house."

Bacon won the crown over as she started her hog call with a few loud snorts and a long, drawn-out "sooey."

She really won the crowd over, however, when she removed several of her ribs and smoked them low and slow until they were fall off the bone tender and delicious.

But I'm Too Fat To Die!

Now, if one is on death row, I suppose it would be pretty tough to find solid reasons for eating well or trying to stay in shape. I would then posit, that it would be reasonable to see oneself growing to fat too execute by lethal injection. I would also... wait. What? So this guy is trying to cheat death by way of overeating? He's now saying the weight gain was unintentional, but this is a murderapist a few weeks away from death, so it's like don't you have to take whatever he says re his own fate with like, a silo of salt?

I'm also too handsome to die!

Richard Cooey said in a death row interview that his execution cannot be carried out humanely under current state procedures because his veins are hard to reach.

Vein access! You can't kill me! My veins are finicky! I guess here's as good a spot as any to interject that I'm anti-capital punishment. Well, let me clarify that a little. I'm anti-humane capital punishment. It seems that if your best argument for the death penalty is that it's a deterrent from more killings or whatever, should you want to send a fucking strong-ass message to potential criminals? "You murder and rape two people (not necessarily in that order) and you are going to die...quickly and painlessly, eventually, unless you put on some weight and we can't get at those pesky veins." Bush league. Executions should be brutal and unbearable to watch. Like why bother if you're going to half ass it?

Cooey, 5-foot, 7 inches tall and 267 pounds, said he has gained perhaps 70 pounds while being locked up for raping and killing two University of Akron students 22 years ago while he was on leave from the U.S. Army. He blamed the weight gain on medication and lack of exercise.

I guess my question here is like what medication are we taxpayers paying for this gentleman to be taking while on death row for murder and rape. Also, if you're the prison, can't you be like "Hmmm this asshole is starting to plump up a little, maybe we should change his diet so he can't like bail on his death sentence when it comes up" Also what are they feeding these death row inmates? And can't they like, force him to exercise or something? I mean being a death row-y guy should be tantamount to being a slave. I know the scenario you are doubtlessly envisioning: "Hey Cooey, paint my fence!" "Fuck you, what are you going to do, kill me?" But I say to you this: If that happens you punch the shit out of his face or solar plexus or wherever you want, and get a little aggression out. You win either way!

"It's hard getting access to my veins," said Cooey, who was handcuffed and locked in a closet-sized visiting room. He spoke through a straw-sized slit in a reinforced glass partition.

How often have they been trying to access his fat veins? Do they practice weekly so they don't fuck up come game time? And visitation closet? What are they afraid he's going to... oh yea.

Cooey said he has heard secondhand about comedians' jokes about the Ohio inmate who claims he's too fat to be executed.

News travels fast on death row.

But he says that ridicule reflects ignorance of his underlying claim that it's the inaccessibility of his veins that makes it difficult to get an IV inserted for a lethal injection.

Or maybe the ridicule reflects that people don't like your fat, rape-y, murder-y ass and want you to die. You dumbass.

The legal challenge is based on constitutional issues and not fear of execution, Cooey said. "It has nothing to do with weight gain," he said. Instead of lethal injection, "If it would make people happy, shoot me in the head with a .45," Cooey said. "Do it legally."

Now you're on the trolley!! Get this man an ice cream cone. And get me whatever a .45 is!

Cooey and a co-defendant kidnapped Wendy Offredo, 21, and Dawn McCreery, 20, after disabling their car by dropping a chunk of concrete on it from a highway overpass. They choked and beat the women to death after repeatedly raping them, then carved X's in their abdomens.

On second thought, can't we argue for like, drawing and quartering people again?

Cooey deflected questions about remorse and said his past comments about the victims and their families had been misunderstood. "I can't come out good," he said.

"You miss understood me when I said I enjoyed raping and murdering your daughter. What I meant was that I enjoyed raping her, but she saw me so I had to kill her. The drawing an X thing was supposed to represent the X-cruciating inner struggle I had when I realized I had to kill her. Oh, so I'm the asshole now?"

Cooey wouldn't say whether he would have something to say in the death chamber. He indicated there might be a new legal challenge to his execution, but he wouldn't detail any strategy because he didn't want to tip off prosecutors.

Didn't want to ruin the surprise. I bet it'll be something like "Death is but a doorway, time is but a window, I'll be back." And what strategy could he possibly tip off to the prosecution? Your whole case is that you're too fat to get lethal injection. Pretty straight-forward, in this man's humble opinion.

Cooey, who would not discuss his prison life or his family, has been on death row since 1986.

So, he's had over two decades to get this fat? Justice is swift my friends. Unless it gets winded after a flight of stairs or whatever.

Obsessive Compulsive Disgusting.

If I ever decide to let myself go and become a giant fat-ass, I hope I have the cojones and patience to create an elaborate excuse for myself, like this dedicated whale of a man, Don Gorske, who consumed 23,000 Big Macs and kept the receipts.

FOND DU LAC, Wis. - A 54-year-old man says his obsessive-compulsive disorder drove him to eat 23,000 Big Macs in 36 years.

A fat person? In Wisconsin? Well now I've seen everything. My obsessive-compulsive disorder drives me to masturbate 30 times a day but you don't hear me contacting the local media outlets, and lets say that I started 10 years ago, that's 109,500 times! I've got those receipts too, but I'm not sure you'd want them. Anyway.

Fifty-four-year-old Don Gorske says he hit the milestone last month, continuing a pleasurable obsession that began May 17, 1972 when he got his first car.

What a weird thing to have spark your 36 year addiction. "Hey man, you just got a car? Let's fuckin' par-tayyyyy!!" "Well, how do you feel about having a ball pit and slides at said par-tay?" "Ummm... confused?"

Gorske has kept every burger receipt in a box. He says he was always fascinated with numbers, and watching McDonald's track its number of customers motivated him to track his own consumption.

You'd think something like personal health would motivate you to track your consumption of Big Macs, not an advertising gimmick. Yet here we are. I wonder if he's fascinated by the number on his scale. But so, let's get into those numbers. 36 years. That's 13,140 days. That's almost 10,000 extra Big Macs, meaning this fucker has eaten nearly two a day every day for 36 years. If I eat one Bic Mac over the next 36 years I'll feel disgusting. I wonder, with the OCD and all, how come not the even number per day? What could have kept him from enjoying this delicious treat?

The only day he skipped a Big Mac was the day his mother died, to respect her request.

...

...

Imagine this poor old woman, on her death bed. Last breaths, trying to pass on wisdom to her beloved son. But no, instead she has to beg him with her dying breath not to be a fucking fat shit for just one goddamn day in his life. That poor woman. And he begrudgingly respects this request, only does so to the letter, so that the day after his mother has died he is back under those Golden arches chowing down the only thing that can console his obsessive-compulsive grief. Somewhere in Wisconsin a very skinny corpse must look like an underground centrifuge.

The correctional-institution employee says he doesn't care when people call his Big Mac obsession crazy. He says he's in love with the burgers, which are the highlights of his days.

See, I'd call him being in love with the burgers crazy, but then again, I've never had sex with cooked ground beef. I imagine him working in his prison, with some lifer shouting from his cell "I'm going to kill you, you fucking fat shit, and your little burger too!!!" And then Mr. Gorske quietly weeps and strokes his burger while whispering gently, "I want you inside me".


Update: It sucks, what a little research can do.

Don Gorske: Not Fat. :(

Still though, fuck him in his stupid hippy face.

He proposed to his wife Mary, in his favorite McDonald's parking lot.

How romantic.

Don Gorske also records when and where he eats his Big Macs in a notebook that he carries with him all of the time.

Someone steal that book and slit that man's ankles.

You did it big guy!!!

You may remember way back when - March, specifically, when I wrote a telling piece on a gentleman trying only to woo his lady. The only thing standing in his was 800 lbs of fat. And the laws of physics. Those weren't helping either. I remember thinking who would want to date someone like that? But we can all celebrate today, for Uribe made it out! He went to the beach! Well, he was forklifted to the beach on his special bed, but still.

Manuel Uribe traveled to the shore of a lake in northern Mexico without ever leaving his specially designed bed. A forklift hoisted the bed onto the truck, which then hauled him to the lake, where he snacked on fish and vegetables and joked with a local boat operator.

"Snacked"? Is a 700 lb man being carted to a beach just so he can leave his house for the first time in over a year really in the position to be "snacking"? At least amid the 550lbs he's dropped, he hasn't lost his sense of humour. I wonder if they'll tell us his little joke...

Looking at the boatman's small craft, Uribe joked, "Too bad I can't get on it — it would sink."

Hahahahahahahahaahahadespite losing a quarter ton I'm still fat enough to sink a ship. I wonder if he was actually joking or if the guy invited him on and he was just being honest. I mean, he can't really "get on" anything. The guy can't leave his bed. Or walk.

Once considered the world's fattest man when his weight hit over half a ton, more than two years of steady dieting had helped Uribe drop to about 700 pounds as of June — 550 pounds less than his former Guinness record weight of 1,235 pounds. He did not say what his current weight is.

He now holds the Guinness record of "Most Skin." Also, how bad is this guy dying for someone else to get fatter than 1,235 pounds so that he can stop being referred to in that way? I wonder why he didn't say what his current weight is. Did he gain a few pounds back?! Scandalous!! Or maybe it's just that when you weigh roughly 700 lbs, you no longer need to be that specific.

While somewhat bothered by the summer heat, Uribe appeared to enjoy Sunday's outing. He is still unable to walk, and his last planned outing in March was aborted after the platform carrying his bed got stuck under an overpass.

I already told them about the overpass! And I can't believe they didn't have a little canopy over his forklift-bed so the sun wouldn't hurt him! Who are these assholes taking him to the beach?

His last successful trip outside his home was in March 2007, when six people pushed Uribe's wheel-equipped iron bed out to the street as a mariachi band played and a crowd gathered to greet him.

Kind of backhanded, when you think about it. Ooooh you finally made it outside! Good for you! Oh, you were wheeled out? And it took six people? That's ok, you're still a winner! Let us serenade you! Seriously:


for every pound Uribe loses, the guy on the left eats a donut

Before that, he hadn't left his home in five years.

My question is - where did he get his food? And his money? If he orders like a hundred cakes, don't you have a legal obligation to not give it to him? And at what point do you decide: Hey, I should call a doctor, because I think I'm going to stop leaving the bed, it's too much work. They should make a documentary about him so I could swear to myself I'd watch it then lose interest after 10 seconds or have to change the channel because I'm shallow and easily repulsed.

OK. Holy.Shit. So writing that last sentence made me think: There probably is a documentary about this guy. So I went to wikipedia (natch) to find out. I didn't see anything about a documentary (I didn't look very hard either but still), but I did see his pre-diet ...well, diet:

Breakfast
20 eggs, beans, 9 tortillas stuffed with cheese and meat, two bowls of taco salad.
Lunch
Half a chicken, 4 meat and cheese tortillas, salad, fizzy drinks, pasta, bread.
Dinner
3-4 eggs with hamburger, beans, 3-4 cheese and meat tortillas, bread, or pasta, fizzy drinks, coffee, milk, 3 quarts ice cream, pineapple.

How is that even fucking possible?!!?!?!?! Turns out now he's on the zone diet(warning - there is video of him on that site and it cannot be unwatched). Now if you'll excuse me: it's my lunchtime and I've still got several meat and cheese tortillas to eat.

Fat A$$hole Angry That People Don't Like His Body Odor

So this 450 pound bastard is asked to leave a casino because he fucking stinks. Sounds reasonable right? Nope! The guy even admits he's a disgusting and smelly and fat waste of space (sort of) and demands an apology from the Casino. He makes a stink about it, if you will. And God I hope you won't.

Anyway,

The 440-pound New York City man said he was playing poker in an Atlantic City casino for 17 hours Tuesday and didn't have time to clean up. He understands why grossed-out gamblers complained about his body odor, but said he didn't deserve stinky treatment from the casino that asked him to leave.

First off, if you weigh a quarter ton, you should understand why people would be grossed out by you, even if you smell like a goddamn rose blossom. If you are morbidly obese and you smell like death and garbage in a public place, you should just be thankful no one had you killed. Seriously though, 17 hours at a casino? What did his wife have to say about this? Hahahahaha, get it? There's no way anyone loves him! Also, he was sitting at a table for 17 hours. Did he not put deodorant on? I sit at a desk for over 8 hours each day. If I doubled that time, I do not think I would smell horrible. Is it because of old food lost in various folds that he should start to smell like rot so quickly? I don't get it.

Dave Coskey, a spokesman for the Borgata Hotel Casino & Spa, said it is company policy not to comment on matters involving customers.

What sort of comment are you looking for? "He stunk, people complained, we asked him to leave." Seems fair.

When the Brooklyn man tried to retake his seat at the table, he said a manager told him to leave. He said he asked for a free room to freshen up, and the casino refused.

I would be willing to bet a lot of money that never happened. "Couldn't I wash myself so I don't stink?" "Nope! We don't want to keep taking your money!"

He promptly filed a complaint about his treatment with the Casino Control Commission. His complaint will be reviewed to determine whether any state gambling laws or regulations were violated, a commission spokesman said Wednesday.

I know the guy's from Brooklyn, and probably says shit like "fuggedaboutit", but I keep picturing him as Ignatious J. Reilly while he complains. Also, what gambling laws could have been violated by asking someone to leave? Especially when everyone else there was complaining that the guy fucking stunk.

Wax said his instincts tell him to find a different casino to patronize, but he likes gambling at the Borgata. He said the casino was out of line to tell him he stinks in front of other patrons.

Yea, because those other patrons had no idea. It's not like they had been complaining about his stench or anything. It's embarrassing being told you stink in front of others. Almost as embarrassing as continuing to remain in a public place while close to other people while you smell like cheese and hot garbage. It's pretty clear the guy has no shame. He's four hundred and forty fucking pounds and smells like sex panther. Yup, an Anchorman joke. Anyway, What does he want from all this? Why's he being such a fat bitch about it?

"I would like an apology," Wax said.

He then added "...and some bear claws"

Turns out he got his wish. The casino issued the following formal apology:

"We here at Borgata are profusely sorry that you're such a smelly fat-ass"

Starbucks cutting number of stores down to 2 per intersection.

Hahahahaha Starbucks are everywhere! Ever hear that joke? It's timeless, until they close 600 stores, that is. Who's laughing now? Besides me in that first bit there.

Starbucks Corp. said Tuesday that it had drastically increased the number of stores it plans to close, citing in part continued weakness in the U.S. economy.

The company said it now plans to close 600 company-operated stores in the United States, up from its previous plans to close 100 stores. The company also said it now plans to open fewer than 200 stores in its coming fiscal year.

The Seattle-based gourmet coffee retailer said the company used several criteria in deciding which stores to close, including whether they were profitable or expected to become profitable in the near future. In a statement, it added that “consideration was given to the impact of current and anticipated economic trends.”

I wonder if consideration was given to the fact that a small coffee costs two fucking dollars. Yea, yea I know. Starbucks are everywhere jokes and Starbucks is expensive jokes. Har dee Fucking Har. As a former barista, I'm going to say my piece and you can't stop me, or stop reading... please don't stop reading? Remember, take it from me: I love you :)

I know its easy and awesome and cool to make fun of Starbucks because theyre evil and blah blah blah. Luckily it's been a while since I've been a barista, but I will say this: That was one of the most fun jobs I ever had. I was friends with all the people I worked with, and for the most part the customers were ok. I frequently found myself sharing a beverage or two while closing the store, and I fed myself and roommates for weeks at a time because they have to throw out the unsold sandwiches at the end of every night. Also, it was the type of job where I didn't take it seriously enough to let anything bother me. If a customer was pissed off (a lot of them were), hey thats great, you're fuming over a cup of goddamn coffee you fuckwit. If customers were nice and there often, or remotely attractive, you turn up the charm and become employee of the goddamn year. Every experience with managers I had was pleasant and the company generally treats their employees well.

I still like the coffee there, which may have come from summers where I drank 3 large cups of black iced coffees a day.

Starbucks, known for sometimes going so far as to open stores across the street from one another, has recently acknowledged that it may have lost some of its luster during a long period of rapid store openings and expansion into everything from breakfast sandwiches to movie promotions. The company also has been feeling the pinch from a down economy, which has made $4 coffee drinks less palatable for many Americans.

I remember the time when European tourists would come to my Starbucks and try to order waffles or something like that, and I could laugh in their faces with my coworkers at how preposterous the idea was. I'm glad to have left before they served McMuffins and had to post the caloric value of them, along with all them coffee cakes.

You'd be amazed how many people don't seem to understand that a 600 calorie piece of cake shouldn't really qualify as breakfast. Though it does compliment that venti mocha with extra whipped cream.

Anyway, no fucking shit 4$ drinks are less palatable now. you can't even get a gallon of gas for less than four fucking dollars. I knew things were fucked when I was in Jersey and saw a gas station that said 3.90$/gallon and I thought to myself: Awesome!

And no shit: not as many people thought to purchase Akeelah and the Bee and the new John Mayer album while they were grabbing their coffee and bran muffins. Who were the advertising wizards who came up with that one?!

Starbucks said that it expects pre-tax charges of between $328 million and $348 million related to the store closings. But because of tax benefits, the company said it expects to see total cash outflow of about $100 million as a result.

The charges will include about $8 million in severance charges, although the company did not specify how many people would lose their jobs as a result of the closures.

I'm guessing that if you are closing 600 stores, (I believe the number of employees at both stores I worked at was between 10 and 20, depending on how big the store is) I believe the number of people losing their jobs would be roughly a fucking fuckload.

What I find weird is that there's no mention of where the stores are that they're closing. Will there no longer be a bajillion in New York City? (There are actually 171 in Manhattan alone)

The real question I need to know the answer to, though, is this: What will Peter King make of this?!

Welcome Aboard, Nice Junk!

Want to get on that plane? Hope you don't mind some random TSA employee seeing you graphically naked! Don't worry though, your face will be blurred out.

"A random selection of travellers getting ready to board airplanes in Washington, New York's Kennedy, Los Angeles and other key hubs will be shut in the glass booths while a three-dimensional image is made of their body beneath their clothes.

The booths close around the passenger and emit "millimeter waves" that go through cloth to identify metal, plastics, ceramics, chemical materials and explosives, according to the TSA.

While it allows the security screeners -- looking at the images in a separate room -- to clearly see the passenger's sexual organs as well as other details of their bodies, the passenger's face is blurred, TSA said in a statement on its website.

My first instinct, upon reading this was, "Oh hell yes! Let's get jobs as TSA workers!" Then my second instinct was to think "Oh wait, most people are fat and/or ugly. This is going to be just as bad for the TSA workers as it is for the people feeling violated" But here's the other thing. It says the face is blurred. Won't the person who's just been staring at your naked body be able to see your face as soon as you step out of the scanner?

People have no idea how graphic the images are," Barry Steinhardt, director of the technology and liberty program at the American Civil Liberties Union, told AFP.

The ACLU said in a statement that passengers expecting privacy underneath their clothing "should not be required to display highly personal details of their bodies such as evidence of mastectomies, colostomy appliances, penile implants, catheter tubes and the size of their breasts or genitals as a pre-requisite to boarding a plane."

I'd like to jump in here and say that to be fair, some of these thing can be noticed while clothed or during a routine airline security pat-down. They can tell the size of someone's breasts? Really? You need an magic millimeter wave emitting device for that? And if you are a TSA employee giving, let's say... an old man, a pat-down, you're probably going to notice the "colostomy bag-like" bag on his side. This will probably lead you to inquire as to what this "colostomy bag-like" thing is, to which he will probably respond with "WHAT'S THAT SONNY?" As for the penile implants... well, yea, that's fair, I wouldn't want them to know about my penile implants either.

Besides masking their faces, the TSA says on its website, the images made "will not be printed stored or transmitted. Once the transportation security officer has viewed the image and resolved anomalies, the image is erased from the screen permanently. The officer is unable to print, export, store or transmit the image."

No, the image of the fat, colostomy bag-wearing, single breasted woman will only be permanently etched into the brain of some poor TSA employee who then has to try and go home and lead a normal life, hugging his children while pretending he didn't have to stare at disgusting peoples' floppy genitals all day.

Lara Uselding, a TSA spokeswoman, added that passengers are not obliged to accept the new machines.
"The passengers can choose between the body imaging and the pat-down," she told AFP.

Oh... Then who fucking cares?

Klassic Komics.......K

Guilty...

...of being too fat.

-A Long Island music shop owner accused of selling knockoff Gibson Les Paul guitars has been arraigned in a pickup truck in a courthouse parking lot after his lawyer said the 500-pound defendant couldn't walk into the courthouse.
-State Supreme Court Justice Robert Doyle said the man's "severe weight problem" prompted the unusual proceeding Thursday in Riverhead.
-A defense lawyer also had given the court a doctor's letter saying the defendant suffers from osteoarthritis.
-The shopkeeper has been released without bail after pleading not guilty to trademark counterfeiting and criminal simulation. He says the case and health problems have forced him to close his store.
-He's accused of selling bogus Gibsons for $1,500 to buyers who thought they were far more valuable genuine versions of the classic electric guitar.

Now in case you are wondering what osteoarthritis is, here's a link. It's essentially arthritis brought on by being too fat. I have no idea why that sentence was included in the article. It's like "They had to hold court in the parking lot because the guy is so fat. His lawyer also had a doctor's note stating that he had health problems due to being so fat." I don't really get the point of mentioning that. You'd think it would be pretty safe to assume the guy is going to have issues stemming from his weight problem if he is too fat to enter the fucking courthouse. I also love that "the case" and health problems have caused him to close the store. I understand though, when I get stressed out by my trademark counterfeiting crimes, I make myself feel better with ice cream and pizza. Then I have someone fork-lift me onto my truck and head out for a hot date, instead of opening up my music store.

Anyway, I wonder what it looked like, and if people came by and heckled. Or if the judge hit something with his gavel - like a car or if he stayed in robe. Did they have little podium and everything or did they just like, stand around in the parking lot? I also imagine the scene with the music shop owner laying supine, mouth agape complaining about his osteoarthritis and having to wash himself with a rag on a stick.

Man Suing Jail for Making Him Slightly Less Obese

No, seriously.

Broderick Lloyd Laswell is in prison in Arkansas awaiting his murder trial, and he is so hungry he could beat and kill a man... and then set his house on fire. Once a healthy and filled out 413 pounds, B has since withered to an almost skeletal 308 pounds. How could you not want to feed a face like this?

Anyway, the 20 year old says he is only receiving 3,000 calories a day. Or, roughly, 50% more than a human adult requires to live.

When asked to explain what was happening, B said,

"On several occasions I have started to do some exercising and my vision went blurry and I felt like I was going to pass out," Laswell wrote in his complaint. "About an hour after each meal my stomach starts to hurt and growl. I feel hungry again."

Now, if you are a great big fat person, and try to exercise, I do believe those symptoms are normal. But if you are cut from marble and statuesque, as B was before being cruelly and unusually punished in this prison-like "jail" place, something is clearly awry. My dear martyr, do go on:

"If we are in a small pod all day (and) do next to nothing for physical exercise, we should not lose weight," the suit says. "The only reason we lost weight in here is because we are literally being starved to death."

He has even resorted to ceasing all physical activity just so that he doesn't literally die. The same way the man he beat and killed died, though I guess at least you can't burn down a jail cell. Can you?

Hang in there my languishing Adonis, I'll eat this cheeseburger for the both of us.

But So Who's the Lucky Lady, Slim

When I'm preparing for a hot date, often the things I think to myself are "Is the forklift ready to get me out of the house?" and "Did I remember to rent a flatbed truck to get me and my bed to my date?" It seems I'm not alone in forgetting to think "Is my iron bed too tall to fit under that overpass?"

"But even the open road wasn't big enough to handle Uribe's dream of celebrating a budding romance and his success in losing about 440 pounds."

Now, if you're like me, right now you are wondering how a 1200 pound man confined to a special made bed can even plant the romantic seeds that could lead to any kind of buds. But also if you're like me, you're missing most of your teeth and pee in a jar, so who are you to judge.

The good news is that Manuel has lost 400 pounds. The bad news is that if he were too look down ever so slightly, he'd see about 800 pounds and probably never even notice those 400 that went missing.

Also, if a mariachi band ever played celebratory music just for me being forklifted out of my own house, I'd know it was time to end it all... or maybe, just maybe...it was actually time to meet a hot babe for drinks and din-din and possibly some lovin? (After the logistics of not killing your partner were properly hashed out, of course)

The guy seems nice and has been trying to get help and slim down for years now, so I won't say anything mean or make any jokes about the accident. [this was the first sentence I wrote. funny how fast things change]


Manuel Uribe's site

Donkey Nips: Or, Where Are They Now - Salute Your Shorts! Edition

I actually didn't see this commercial during last nights' game, and that might be for the better, because I would have freak out. It's a commercial for Amped Energy Drink, and the premise is a simple one, and it is as follows: Donkey Lips jump starts a car by clamping those metal dealies to his nipples and drinking an Amped Energy Drink, and then dancing. That's it. That's the whole

commercial.

Now, Donkey Lips, aka Michael Bowers, played an important part on Salute Your Shorts. He was Otis to Budnick's Lex Luthor, helping to take part in his genius friends schemes, fucking up the plan, being fat, etc.

Some interesting facts from his wikipedia page:

Bower is a former practicing member of Scientology.
Recently, he was a rapper.
He has also appeared as a contestant on Singled Out. (I wonder how he did).

The rap thing I actually remember and swore he had a myspace page with some of the rap songs on it. All of them were amazing, and I'm pissed I can't find any of the songs now.

EDIT: turns out the page is actually gone. Now I'm fucking depressed.

Zen and The Art of Hog Teasing

You may have heard of Hogging,(competition with friends at a bar/party/whatever and trying to bang the fattest chick there) which is a great game unless you don't win. Coming in second place is actually more like coming in last place. Hog Teasing is a much more subtle art and can be much more enjoyable to a much larger audience. Hog Teasing involves being at a bar or party, or even just walking down any given street on any given day, and subtly poking fun at a fat girl. This can be made into a competition if so desired - see who can make the fattest girl cry, etc, etc. - or it can just be done for a few belly laughs (though careful when it comes to that belly, tubby - or you're next).

Here are some ideas for you to do some hog teasing.

Approach fat girl at bar, lean against wall and look at her seductively. If/When she turns to say hello, say "ha, just kidding chubbles" (feel free here to exchange "chubbles" for your favorite word to describe a fat person)

Attach a mini-burger to fishing line, dangle in front of Hog, and make that piggy dance!

Take fat girl to salon for backcombing, let Rodrigo do his thang!

Approach Hog's table, ask her if she's going to finish those nachos, before she can answer, tell her you were joking because you know she is going to finish those nachos.

Hit on fat girl, win her confidence. Proceed to tickle hog, and laugh and point out her rolls and back fat.

Chase hog around bar with rope. Subdue and tie her limbs together, rendering her immobile. Make jokes about cupcakes.

Pour the following on the hog: Peach Schnapps, Vodka, Cranberry Juice, Orange Juice, Pineapple juice. Shout "Hey everyone, look! Sex on the beached whale!"

Say hello to hog and her friends. Tell them how nice they are to spend all this quality time with her before they put her on the spit for roasting. Tell them you will see them at the luau, hand them an apple and walk away.

Approach hog and act as though she is a loved one you haven't seen in ages, when she inquires as to why you are reacting as such, tell her you are just so relieved that story about her being shot and killed in Georgia was a hoax.

Please feel free to create your own hog tease, as there really is no wrong way to go about this. Just please, keep it tasteful and be respectful.

shit, now i'm hungry.