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Where is the best place to meet a fat guy?

April 28th, 2011 by Andy

Tiana 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 Andy

Veronica 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.

Can I attack a typo and pretend that I’m better than the person who committed it?

April 19th, 2011 by Andy

Syphilitic Halfwitted Ignorant Twat in West Covina, California writes:

Hello, assholes! I hate your fucking guts — the both of you — and I honestly wish you were both dead. Also, I’ve got a truly monumental inferiority complex for which I attempt to compensate by attempting to insult and belittle my intellectual, educational and societal betters! I was just wondering if by pointing out simple grammatical and typographical errors I was making those I detest (and again, I detest them because they are better than me in every possible way) look worse by comparison. What do you think? Kiss my ass!

Well, SHIT (I do hope I can call you SHIT), the answer is no. You see, when you attack the medium instead of the message, it merely shows that you’re incapable of engaging on any sort of meaningful intellectual level. While you (and McLuhan) may try to make the argument that the medium is the message, the reality is that the message is the message and sometimes — even frequently — the medium is imperfect.

Let’s use as an example a recent comment we received on this very blog from a person who signed themselves, “Kiss my ass” [sic]:

Typo… One line from the bottom of the main body. The correct spelling is “there”. You know, as in “Go over THERE you unbelievably stupid cum gargling gutter slut.”

Or, as a speaker of the English language might phrase it:

I have found a typographical error; one line from the bottom of the main body of text. The correct word is “there,” rather than “their.” E.g., “Get over there, you unbelievably stupid, cum gargling gutter-slut,” [emphasis added].

Rather than take issue with Sean’s message (to wit: High school prom night is nothing more than school-sanctioned foreplay ultimately and ideally leading to fornication), she (and I’m just assigning a gender at random) took issue with the single typographical error she saw and, in an attempt to make herself appear more intelligent than she actually is, called Sean out in an insulting and quite frankly ironically ungrammatical manner. While I realize that not everyone has had the opportunity, desire or means to attend a prom, I would think that anyone with even a modicum of knowledge on the subject might have more to offer with regard to disputing Sean’s message than an insulting and uninvited proofreading note. But, perhaps I’m being unfair. There may be any number of reasons that “Kiss my ass” [sic] is unfamiliar with the general politics and activities of high school.

All of this is not to say that if you take issue with something that either Sean or I say you shouldn’t communicate your displeasure or disagreement — far from it. We encourage that kind of interaction and enjoy the give and take we get from the literal dozen of you that follow the blog with any regularity. But if you want to attack an entry, do attack the content, not a simple typographical error.

But more to the point, I’m curious as to why you continue to read this blog if you detest both Sean and myself and the work we do to such an extreme degree. One wonders if you don’t have anything in your life to occupy your time? No hobbies? No books to read? No arts, no crafts, no educational furtherance to pursue? Oh well. It’s hard for me to complain, as a reader is most definitely a reader. And in the eventuality that this blog becomes supported by advertising, your continued readership will quite literally put money in our pockets. So by all means, keep reading, SHIT.

I’ll make an admission here, SHIT. If I’m to be completely honest, I’m guilty more frequently than I’d care to admit of being obsessed with that which I find distasteful. It’s an American trait, I think, to have enough time and energy to expend purely on something you hate, rather than taking that energy and putting it toward something productive or, at the very least, something you enjoy.

First-world problems! Right, SHIT?

Live from Haiti is all like, live and stuff.

April 18th, 2011 by Andy

You know, just in case anyone was curious, I’m 1+ week into my stint here in Haiti, and I’ve posted a few entries. Photos, too! So go check it out: Live from Haiti. Or don’t. I really don’t care that much.

Prom is simply school-sanctioned teen fucking

April 17th, 2011 by Sean

Andy — hope that Haiti continues safely. A little nugget of my Iowa experience, just for you.

 

I was out the other night having dinner with friends. Being a Saturday, it was naturally quite busy. However, what I failed to realize was that the vast majority of the crowds weren’t your usual mix of Iowa cow people and ugly children. Instead, prom night had descended upon the Texas Roadhouse with a vengeance.

First, let me say this: Texas Roadhouse is exactly the kind of steakhouse chain restaurant the name implies. Lots of loud country music that the waitstaff stops to dance to, at apparently pre-determined times, with an obviously obligatory zeal, lots of peanut shells on the floor and cheap beer on the tables, but also lots and lots of steak. And that’s the important thing to remember. It’s a place to eat some cheap fucking steak and blot out the memory of a job you hate on a Saturday night. Yet, group after group of Iowa farmbred hillbillies come in, wearing their camouflage tuxes and camouflage ball gowns in what I can only assume is some kind of small-town attempt at irony, and I’m thinking to myself the whole time: I’m pretty sure somebody’s “condom” is going to “break” tonight.

Second, who the fuck takes their prom date to the goddamn Texas Roadhouse? Is that what gets you laid these days? Even in Iowa? I mean, I realize these are some fat, ugly girls here. But remembering my own high school experience, I always found that even a chance at some heavy petting usually required just a tad more thought than: “Well, what’s near the mall?”

So, to all you hillbillies out there hoping to plumb the depths of some scabrous land-monster, maybe next time think it through a couple more steps after picking out that fine gillie-suit tuxedo you found in the Cabelas catalog. Don’t bother with the suit and the steak dinner. If you are going to fuck a pig, take her to a farm or even a city park. Make sure there’s mud for mixing up some slops. Then you get in there and fuck that pig. It’s what you were bred for, right?

Happy Prom Night, everybody!

What’s it like in Haiti?

April 8th, 2011 by Andy

Betsy in Seattle, Washington asks:

What’s it like in Haiti?

Funny you should ask! A couple of years ago, in October of 2008, I had the opportunity to go to Haiti as part of a documentary film crew. When I was there I — like most people who have the chance to go to Haiti — I fell in love with the place and the people. Oh, sure, you could say that I’d have fallen in love with any country that I had the chance to go to on someone else’s dime, doing a job I really love. But I didn’t go to any country, I went to Haiti. And I really and truly loved it there.

Just over a year ago, Port-au-Prince was just about leveled by a large earthquake. And that’s when I began looking for a way to do something to help. But the problem is that… I’m kind of useless. I mean, I’m a photographer and filmmaker and blogger — and a fairly broke-by-US-standards one at that. They really don’t need more photos, videos or words created about the Haitian people. They need food and water and shelter and to do all that they need money (and hey, if you’ve got extra, a reputable NGO with a Haitian program wouldn’t be a bad place to send it). And in the long term, they need a real economy that leads to political and social stability and jobs. But anyway, I kept my eyes open for some sort of opportunity.

Long story short: I found one. I’m going to be going down to Haiti for a few months (between one and four) to teach some young adults how to take good photographs and edit video in Final Cut Pro. I’m leaving tonight.

I’m going to have internet access and I plan to keep working on Ask a Fat Guy — as does Sean, when he gets a little less busy/sick. So keep your eyes open here and I’ll keep you guys updated as to what’s going on.

On a more personal level, I’m really pleased to have a good, solid answer to the whole “What are you contributing to the world?” question.

So in answer to your question, Betsy of Seattle, Washington: I’ll let you know.

You guys dead?

April 6th, 2011 by Andy

Nope. Just busy. Big news coming on Friday, though!