Masturbatory Euphemism Fête tomorrow. But I’m feeling icky and cranky today.
I haven’t even planned my ahn-sahm-blah.
Feeling bloated, thick and slow, like a marshmallow in the microwave.
Bruce McCulloch from “Kids in the Hall” said it best:
When You’re Fat
I know it’s hard…
When you’re fat
And alone
And no one’s around to know you
And you lock up your bike
And it falls down.
When you’re fat
And alone
And you’re on a diet
For no one
And on your birthday
Only your mother calls.
She says “Hap
Hap-pee
Happy birthday, Pumpkin
I won’t talk long
I bet there’s someone in your bed.”
When you’re fat
You live alone
But you share a bathroom
You walk through the halls
With your toilet paper in your hands.
And later on
You phone
Your friend who lives in Vancouver
And you talk at length
About her little kids.
And you stop
At the shop
With wedding dresses staring at you
And you think to yourself
“I better take a wok cooking class.”
I know it’s hard
When you’re all alone
Haven’t had sex
For a year now
I know it’s hard
When you walk alone
I’ve seen you at the antique flea market.
Life is sad
When you wear
Sweatpants and a raincoat
And you walk unescorted
And you go into bad curves.
And you buy
Yourself
Some corn chips and some seltzer
And you go home and eat them
While you read junk mail.
And later on
Your hand
It moves under the covers
And after you’ve cum
You think about your student loan.
I know it’s hard
When you’re all alone
I know it’s hard
For you.
Thanks, Bruce.
Visit the Marquis’ Crush o’ the Week. I miss you, baby.
“DJ, SAVE my life!” Wanna feel like a Marquis? Download the music he’s listening to. But do it quickly. This mp3 will be erased at the next diary entry because we’re stealing bandwidth, here. (If you missed one in the past, email me — we’ll work something out.) TODAY: Bruce McCulloch, duh, “When You’re Fat” (2 MB).
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