chubbydj writes:
Do all fat guys innie when they are soft
How many fat guys’ dicks do you think I’ve seen?
Do fat guys have innies (wiener-wise)?
January 5th, 2012 by AndyCheck out Them Mudds — Andy & Lamont’s new radio show!
November 7th, 2011 by AndyAs you may have noticed, things at Ask a Fat Guy have slowed down considerably. You can chalk it up to inertia, and you people not really participating in the whole process. Anyway, just though you guys would like to know that Andy and Lamont are doing a radio show called Them Mudds for Party 934. You can listen every Monday, 2-4 PM Eastern, 11-1 Pacific at party934.com, or if you happen to live in the Hudson Valley in New York state, tune in to 94.9 on your FM dial.
Thanks for playing and watch this space for new junk happening soon. (Soon in terms of geologic time, obviously.)
This Sarah lady has ideas about human centipedes
November 4th, 2011 by AndyIn response to what is, by far the most popular post on this particular site, Sarah writes:
Couldn’t a Human Centipede Work This Way?—–It would seem that a possible solution might be something up your line: Bariatric surgery—a gastric bypass of 75% of the first partner’s small intestine which absorbs the food into the bloodstream, then a 50% bypass of the second partner’s. Thus, the first person could only absorb 25% of what she ate, then the next could only absorb half of the rest, assuring enough nutrient to the last. This would also make the first partner, the only active one constantly starving, causing her to eat immense amounts which would be passed not to her body but to the others in a constant flow. The first could be easily trained through her hunger to perform as required and to voraciously seek and overeat food.
I like you, Sarah.
You’ve got ideas. And not just “ideas,” Sarah. You’ve got ideas.
I’m not really sure how to respond to this particular letter, beyond saying that I have no idea. It’s as reasonable as any suggestion regarding the creation of a human centipede I’ve seen, and I suppose that’s saying something (about what, I have no idea). Until the research is in on human centipede-ing, I suppose we’re all just going to have to make do with conjecture.
So I guess, by all means. Move to Germany (or Florida, if you don’t have a passport) and give it a whack. Write when you’ve got it sorted.
Best of luck!
P.S. I’d really like a video of you doing your best performance of the, “Yes, yes, feed her!” scene from the movie. Can you get on that? Thanks!
An Ask a Fat Guy Review: Four Loko!
June 21st, 2011 by AndyI recently spent nine weeks in Haiti. Whilst I was there, I drank a lot of Prestige beer. Prestige, if you’re among the majority of the world population that haven’t heard of it, is an excellent American-style lager brewed by Brasserie Nationale d’Haiti S.A., which just so happened to win the gold medal for American-style lager at the 2000 World Beer Cup. It also happened to cost 35 gourdes (88¢) a bottle at our local bar. For some reason, this left me with a disturbing yen for Smirnoff Ice. The nearest convenience store to my house didn’t have Smirnoff Ice. But they did have Four Loko Fruit Punch Flavor.
Let me preface this post by saying that I’ve just consumed an entire can of Four Loko Fruit Punch Flavor in the space of about forty-five minutes. Ironically, while I drank it, I watched the first episode of season two of “Jamie Oliver’s Food Revolution.” So if this review devolves into gibberish, that would be why.
I never drank Four Loko in the caffeine days. It’s not because I’m “better than that” or too hoity-toity to drink a malt beverage — 2001 Me’s association with Olde English 800 and Rainier Ale can certainly attest to that. It’s simply because even booze-loving me could never resign myself to drinking a beverage called Four Loko that was so readily embraced by the frat boy culture. I did, however, drink Sparks both orange and black, B^E (aka B-to-the-E, aka Bud Extra) and more-than-I’m-comfortable-admitting Red Bull and vodkas. Suffice it to say, I’m no stranger to sugary, caffeinated cheap booze.
When cracking open a Four Loko Fruit Punch Flavor, I’m reminded of the smell of a women’s restroom at a club. It’s a definite fruity smell, like a mix of cheap perfume and deodorizer mixed with several dozen cheap beers spilled on the floor.
When initially tasting a Four Loko Fruit Punch Flavor, I’m reminded of a Hi-C fruit punch that’s been poured over a bum’s ass crack. As I continued running my tongue along Roscoe’s anal lips, my brain became further addled by the 12% alcohol and the flavor became distinctly less hoboesque and far more I-don’t-care-what-it-tastes-like-just-keep-making-the-pain-stop-esque.
And that 12% number really is key. It’s 12% alcohol. A 23.5 ounce can contains as much alcohol as more-than four of your average pale American lager beers. And at $2.69 per can, that’s an incredible value! At my stores, PBR is 16¢/oz, and Four Loko is 11¢/oz. And the Four Loko contains more than twice the alcohol per ounce as PBR. That means that on a dollars-to-drunk basis, it costs just over a third as much to get drunk on Four Loko as it does on PBR. One third! 37.5%! That’s insane. That is… Loko.
Now… is it worth it? I really have no idea. After one can, I’m definitely solidly buzzed. But it’s not exactly a pleasant buzz. And I have no doubt that if I were to drink another can, the hangover would be mule kickingly bad.
So I guess what I’m saying is that if you’re hard up for cash, buy Four Loko. But if you’re not, it’s probably in your best interest to buy something high class like Pabst Blue Ribbon. And for the record, I fucking love Pabst Blue Ribbon.
Welcome back, Mandrew
June 13th, 2011 by SeanAndy has returned from Haiti, more or less safe and sound, and will likely return to regularly scheduled programming just as soon as he gets caught up on American beer, assorted meats and cheeses, and sex with his girlfriend…all very necessary things, I might add. As for me, I never left the country, though I clearly live in a land of oddity. Midwestern ethos notwithstanding, ignorance isn’t the only repellent thing one can find in farm country. More pervasive, and perhaps more dangerous, is devoted commitment to ideas with no basis in fact or reason.
To put a finer point on what I mean, people want their fucking FEMA money, but great bearded Zeus help you if you even fart something that sounds vaguely like two consenting adults wanting to commit marriage upon each other AND have matching sexual organs. Not sure I’ll ever quite understand the resistance. But the good thing about life is that death comes for us all, and most of that petty ignorance tends to die off too, leaving us the next petty ignorance to climb into society’s brutal gaze.
A lot of odd turns brings you to a place of specific geography. And it isn’t always an easy thing to identify the reasons why. At times such as these, I find it helpful to remember how very shitty so many people have it in this world of ours. Honestly, when you really break it down, most of the planet lives in such pain, bankruptcy, weariness, and sheer terror that problems like “my Visa bill is too high” or “Sarah Palin is kind of a twat” don’t really rank up there too highly in the whole food-shelter-safety paradigm. I guess what I’m trying to say is: we all have problems. I thank sweet Allah that an oil leak in my Cutlass or heightened seasonal allergies are about the worst of mine at the moment. This really is a great fucking country.
So, more POW! BAM! SMOOSH! BIFF! to come friends. Same bat time, same bat channel.
Do I have to give up on dating until I lose weight?
May 30th, 2011 by AndyJackson from Made-Up-City in Made-Up-State writes:
I am 25 years old and I weight about 344 pounds. I’m 30 pounds into losing what I hope is a vast amount of weight. I exercise almost daily, eat mostly vegetables and drink mostly water. Finding a date has been horrific and dating sites are filled with women who are so picky it makes my head spin? Should I just give up trying to date until I’m fit, or should I try other avenues?
First and foremost: Good on you. You recognize that there’s a problem with yourself and you’re making the commendable and difficult decision to improve your life. That is superb — no question. I wish you nothing but good luck and success with your efforts.
Here’s where the shitty part starts: You are very obese. It doesn’t matter how open, good, giving, or game your average girl is; you are so far outside of societal norms that you’re not a viable candidate for the vast majority of the dating public. That’s not to say that you’re not a great normal guy, with a good sense of humor that loves to write poetry and play guitar and would treat his woman like a queen. But most women are not going to be able to look past 344 pounds. That sucks and I’m sorry. But the solution to that is what you’re already doing: Get fit. It will be good for you, your heart, and your heart. (Look at that fucking metaphor! Cha-fucking-ching.) There are, of course, girls out there that are into big dudes. But most women that are into guys your size are of a similar size themselves. And I suspect very much that you’re not interested in them. “Why?” you may ask? We’ll get to that.
So here’s the gist: If you’re not into dating a big girl, then you probably need to hold off until you lose a lot more weight. You’ve got a good start on things, so keep going with it. Don’t look at this as a negative, look at it as a positive: You can get yourself some undoubtedly needed therapy in the meantime!
And that’s about where this article would end… except that — like I usually do for these questions — I did some Googling. And it turns out that you’re a bit creepy. You’ve posted several times on a couple of different sites looking to meet up with a young lady for, “One-way oral.” (One-way cunnilingus, to be specific.) That in itself isn’t so bad; there’s nothing wrong with a no-strings-attached hook-up (to use the, you know, parlance of our times) as long as both parties are game. But the creepy part comes in when you say that you’re looking for (and I’m going to paraphrase here, to make an attempt to protect your anonymity) “a strapped-for-cash college chick,” who is “down on her luck.” Also, “I would like you to be young and hot — 18 to 30. And white.” (!!!) And, of course, “I’m open to more if we get along. Could mean more money for you!” You also describe yourself as chubby. Which… I mean, really. You’re 344 pounds. That’s not being honest at all. Chubby is 20-30 extra pounds, depending on your frame. You are at a minimum 130 pounds inside of obese.
Look — I’m not trying to rake you over the coals (okay, I am a little bit, but because this is kind of funny). But if these posts are any indication of how you present yourself on dating sites, then you come across as a creepy, lying desperate weirdo. Also your post has slightly racist undertones.
So my advice to you is to stop using your real email address and phone number to post advertisements looking to pay for sex — they are literally the first and only hits for your email address and they will lose you a job in the future should your potential employer stumble across them. Stop trying to prey on down-on-their-luck regular college girls. Regular girls of any age do not like being made to feel like a prostitute. And offering them money in exchange for oral sex goes even beyond prostitution. Cunnilingus is, I think, far more intimate than just fucking. And it would surprise the hell out of me if anyone bit on your ad.
Stop trying to pay for sex unless it’s legal. If you want to pay for sex, then take a trip to Nevada or Amsterdam and visit one of their legal brothels. You won’t be able to pay for a girl to receive cunnilingus there, either. But if you want to pay for sex, you can do so legally and safely. Personally, I don’t give a shit what two consenting adults do in private, whether or not money changes hands. But prostitution is illegal in 49 out of 50 states and you don’t want a John rap. Go to where prostitution is legal and avail yourself there.
Get some therapy. Anyone who is that obese has to have some issues. And I think you may have more than most. Use your time between now and your datable weight to get your head in order.
And keep losing weight, Jackson! Thirty pounds is a great fucking start. Keep at it!
Nosy cunts ought to keep their mouths shut
May 4th, 2011 by SeanWe’ve all had it happen. You’re there, ostensibly having a private conversation with a friend, associate, confidante, trusted advisor, contemporary, interested well-wisher, local bystander, or fellow inmate, and a random passerby feels it necessary to provide an okay, a critique, a quid pro quo, a by-your-leave, etc. of what is being said. Rarely is it invited. More often than not, the interjecting person is using the conversation as a way of establishing some kind of power relationship (I’m your boss, I’m your co-worker with more tenure, I’m a regular here, this is my side of the bus, this is my end of the playpen) rather than having a genuine care for what you might be talking about. Frustrating? Absolutely. Given the nature of daily life, killing time becomes a necessity. Something has to keep the voices at bay. More importantly, events happen that simply beg to be spoken about, if for no other reason than to give us a way to find purchase, to navigate the landscape of what is quite often some complicated shit.
What’s my point? Unless you’re being spoken to, stay the fuck out of it. The guy in the next cubicle is discussing the best technique for fucking your sister in the ass…and this troubles you? Don’t stroll over and chime in, “Reginald, such talk is wholly work-inappropriate. And my sister deserves a better ass-fucking than the pointers you’ll pick up from these office humps!” Instead, vault that wall like a decathlete and take a Swingline to good Reginald’s eyes. Conversation ended, and really, no harm done. Because it’s not always about what we believe is work appropriate or not. Sometimes it’s just about being a fucking human being to one another. And if you can’t do that, well…you deserve to be stapled right in the eyes.
Nosy cunts ought to keep their mouths shut.
A little more hate, and we just might have a website
May 2nd, 2011 by SeanToday’s post is more META than usual. That is, rather than address a specific question or happening in the world, I thought I’d use this space to share one of the truly great things about writing your own blog: readers. Two specific readers, to be precise. Their blind hate (divorced from the circumstances that nurtured it) glitters densely…almost diamond-like. In that spirit, I thought I’d let the comments from such a reader, perhaps our most beloved fans, speak to what we are trying to accomplish here. I find that these words, rather than anything either Andy or I might say, proclaim proudly that even a sheer stubborn, nonsensical loathing can’t keep some people from becoming a follower. Here’s to you, Shitwit! We two celebrate thee.
(Note: the following comments were submitted in response to this post. However, due to a lack of caring on my part and Andy’s being out of the country with better things to do…well, they just never made the cut. However, here they are presented in full.)
Comment #1 from user SHWIT and email Icanseemytoes@youhaveatinypenis.com: This is just an uneducated guess you smegma licking, sweaty, gelatinous excuse for a human being but is it not entirely possible that your loyal fan, so dubbed “shit” ( a very clever and all together original insult by the way, I bow to your obviously superior prowess of the English vernacular) might actually enjoy your inane and rather silly bits of insultingly stupid advice but felt that your website could use a little, controversy. Maybe Shit didn’t have a problem with the message Sean was trying to send but thought you would enjoy actually having someone comment on something you wrote to stir up a little excitement. Otherwise, what are you useful for? I mean, it’s always nice to have a few obese suckers hanging around on the fourth of July in the vain and desperate hopes of getting some free beer and chicken wings because they ate all theirs. I rather enjoy plumbing the depths of their fat creases with the pointy end of my bottle rocket, dirty. What a wonderful idea that was, using the naturally disgusting jiggling crevices of a fat persons body to hold up my fireworks. Anyhow, enough reminising, back to the point. You already have so few fans, because most of them tried to like you but didn’t have the balls to disagree with you when you tore them a new one for absolutely no reason at all, why try and chase them all away with your angst-y, fifteen year old fat boy rhetoic? Well, I’m off to chew on some gristle, by the way, “half witted” is two words rather than one. Have a good day pork chops!
Comment #2, again from SHWIT and email Icanseemytoes@youhaveatinypenis.com: Pardon me, I meant “half-witted”. Also, where do fat people get off saying that they are our “intellectual, educational and societal betters”? As far as I can tell, eating and drinking to excess puts you at the low end of the totem pole as regards intellect. On top of that, being fat and genetically retarded also puts you at the bottom of the food chain. Really, just take a second to think about it. If somehow, someway the Apocolypse did come around and we were forced to feed on our own kind, you would be the first to go. Mostly because we are hungry, but also because you’re excess weight and minuscule lung capacity would slow down the rest of the group. As far as societal goes, my experience points towards the logic that overweight people are generally looked down upon and silently scorned for not having the ability to control themselves. We are in a constant battle to fix your genetic imperfections because you dumb cunts can’t stop breeding and passing along your inferior genetics. Therefore the rest of the world watches as America tries to educate the fat and stupid on the ways that we can help them be less fat and stupid. Just a thought.
Comment #3, once again, from SHWIT: I hate cell phones and their insatiable need to correct my already predetermined tense of a word. Accidentally, I meant “your” rather than “you’re”.
Comment #4 from our good friend SHWIT: Funny how the spelling on the website you just referenced is also “half-wit”.
Yes, a Comment #5 from the aforementioned SHWIT: I’m sorry, you seem to think you know me… Pray tell, what awful hand was I dealt in life? I feel as though I have a thoroughly robust and wonderful life but since you seem to think I’m a housecleaner and a high school dropout also I would be much inclined to hear your outrageous thoughts regarding the rest of my life as well.
Unfortunately, SHWIT decided that they had said their fair share or had enough of berating, well, themselves apparently, so rather than post again, another user on the SAME network, in the SAME place (a clever ruse), decided to finish us off. Comment #6 comes in from Kiss my ass with the email Stopfuckingyourmom@dumbass.net: Oh boohoo. Way to take the fun out of it fatty. This is why this website is a failure. You’re too fucking serious and pissy. Grow some balls and dont ignore logical debate with your inane posturing.
There’s probably a lot that could be said about these comments. What it might look like, I certainly haven’t the faintest idea. But much like a guy with a sore tooth, Andy and I are lucky enough to have a couple of followers who can’t stopping picking at us. If they feel they are being talked about, even coincidentally or ironically, they can’t NOT respond. And I thank them for it.
Crazy people: don’t they just give you a big boner?
Where is the best place to meet a fat guy?
April 28th, 2011 by AndyTiana from Cincinnati, Ohio writes:
I’m quite the chubby chaser but, I seemed to be surrounded by really skinny men! Where is the best place to meet a fat guy?
Well, Tiana, you’re in luck! I found this matchmaking company, with almost 500 locations scattered throughout the US — and good news; they’ve got one in your town!
Or, if you’re looking to make a Big Move, I have this handy map. Remember: More red equals more pork rinds.
The idea that a woman can’t find a fat dude to date is amazing to me. I live in Seattle and even in a somewhat hipstery, greenzo town like that, there are still plenty of fatties to go around.
But I don’t think that’s the problem. Because, Tiana, I’ve been to the Midwest. I’ve even been in the airport that you pretend is in Cincinnati. (Seriously. Cincinnati doesn’t have an airport. It’s in Kentucky. You really can’t pretend like it’s “your” airport when it’s across state lines.) I’ve seen exactly the caliber — and mass — of the average Midwesterner. And I’ve got maybe one other solution for you.
Glasses.
Because if you can’t find a fat dude that’s willing to date you, then you’re blind. In the interim, though, go ahead and feel around for some chub. If you’re even in the least bit attractive, they won’t mind the forwardness of your new dating style.
Why are boys so protective over girls?
April 21st, 2011 by AndyVeronica from the land of Wichita, Kansas(s) writes:
Why are boys so protective over girls?
Because of evolution, obviously. You need to protect your woman, lest Ogg over in the next cave get his grubby hands with its jagged, broken fingernails all over her supple animal hide-covered loins.
Women are (and we’re speaking in broad generalizations here — while we generalize broads, I suppose) less physically robust than your average man. Women have evolved over the millennia (all six of them, amirite Christians? — ah, but I already lost you with the “evolve” thing) to be good parents, good gatherers, nurturers, soft hips, nice hair, look good in a corset, high heels, and so forth, whereas men have evolved to be strong enough to protect their family, good enough hunters to provide for their family, and good at hooking up the stereo.
It’s all down to testosterone and evolution. It’s an in-built impulse to protect your lady. It’s an in-built impulse to protect any lady. But if she doesn’t throw you at least a pity flirt afterward, then she’s probably a stuck up skank.
The fact that you used the words “boys” and “girls” rather than “men” and “women” leads me to assume that you’re not of an advanced age. Perhaps you’re still in school? In which case, all those things I said are true, but multiplied several times by the raging ass-kicking hormones and sex hormones (or as scientists call them, “hornymones”) coursing through the bloodstream of every male your age.
But not to worry, because it gets better, Veronica! Why, I’m 30 and I already couldn’t possibly be bothered to move myself to protect my woman. “Is she in danger? …eh. She can take care of herself. She’s an ‘independent woman,’ after all.” So you’ve got that to look forward to.