Douche of the Week: Guy in the Barefoot Shoes


Dear Guy in the Barefoot Shoes,

Thank you. I was afraid my douche thermometer was broken, as it hadn’t reached fever pitch in quite some time. You rectified that. In fact you raised the temperature to its highest level yet. You beat out Weird -Slightly Brain Damaged -Probably a Male Escort- Guy and he wore a shirt to the gym the other day that was so tattered and torn even Tarzan would have found it inappropriate. You beat out Yoga Chick and I watched her have an entire conversation about skiing in Big Bear with her bony, anorexic leg bent behind her head. You beat out Filipino and he put together an entire DJ set while the rest of his Gym Threesome worked on abs. You beat out my Gym Nemesis and he dyed his hair a subtle shade of green. You beat out the guy that plays the teacher on Glee who does nothing but meander about trying to get everyone’s attention, only to turn around and throw shade when I take his picture on my iPhone and text it to The Enabler with the question: WOULD YOU HIT IT EVEN THOUGH HE’S WEARING A HEADBAND?

Congratulations Guy in the Barefoot Shoes. You are The Fat Kid’s Douche of the Week. 

Destiny's Child is reuniting and No, No, No Part III is about these shoes.

Destiny’s Child is reuniting and No, No, No Part III is about these shoes.

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Taylor Swift: Girl, You Need a Fat Friend

photoOne of my favorite pastimes is shoving cake down my throat. One of my other favorite pastimes is listening to the latest Taylor Swift album, Red. It’s all sorts of amazing, like a carrot cake with a cream cheese frosting washed down by a cookies and cream milkshake. Remarkably, my two pastimes go hand in hand. The more I listen, the more I learn and two things become abundantly clear: 1) Taylor Swift is confused by quite a lot and 2) she obviously doesn’t have any fat friends to give her advice. Move over Selena Gomez, you’ve been replaced by The Fat Kid.

Song: We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together

Lyric: He called me up and was like ‘I still love you’ and I was like, ugh…this is exhausting. Like we are never getting back together. Like ever.

Girl, please. In Oops…I Did it Again some guy went down to the bottom of the ocean and got Britney the piece of jewelery FROM THE TITANIC -and she still turned that dufus down. You’re not that tough.

You dated a Jonas? That's gross. And I had sex with K-Fed.

You dated a Jonas? That’s gross. And I had sex with K-Fed.

Song: All Too Well

Lyric: But you keep my old scarf from that very first week, because it reminds you of innocence, and it smells like me.

Um, he kept the scarf because it’s Hermes and you seem to be the only one that doesn’t know he’s gay.

Song: Stay, Stay, Stay

Lyric: “Stay, Stay, Stay.”

Tay, Tay, Tay. Girl, you love repetition. I mean, how many times did you tell him you’re not getting back together? He gets it. He knows. He’s the one who left. Because you asked him in this other song you wrote about him to stay. Three times. That freaks guys out.

Lyric: Before you I’d only dated self-indulgent takers who took their problems out on me.

T Swift, let me tell you something my friends tell me: the common denominator here is you.



Song: The Moment I Knew

Lyric: Standing there in my party dress, in red lipstick, with no one to impress.

Since you used the words “party dress” I’m assuming you’re at a five year-old’s birthday party and I’m sure the little girls there love you. Stop worrying about the boys. They’re in kindergarten as well and they’re probably still playing with tractors.

Lyric: What you do say when tears are streaming down your face in front of everyone you know?

You say, “Don’t stand there and watch me cry, go to the bar and get us some fucking shots.”

Lyric: And whaddya do when the one that means the most to you, is the one that didn’t show?

Well, let’s see. There’s lots of options, but the most effective one is sleeping with his best friend. That tends to get his attention every time.

Song: Begin Again

Lyric: He always said he didn’t get this song, but I do, I do.

Mmm. He got it. He just didn’t feel like talking to you about it because you’re unique fascination with being a James Taylor fan is cute to you and to you alone.

Song: Starlight

Lyric: The night we snuck into a yacht club party pretending to be a duchess and prince.

Okay, if he actually went along with that then I’m going to guess he had a hard time finding your G-Spot. If this is just something you made up, well, it’s a cute fantasy, but it’s one that is best reserved for the ears of those who aren’t yet old enough to have body hair.

This is how you do RED.

This is how you do RED.

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28 New Year’s Resolutions


What if I got hit by a bus tomorrow and died having never tried this?

I know this is late but I thought it prudent to wait until after the holidays to assess how many pounds my friends gained during the holiday season because I wanted to see if I could include them in any of my jokes without risking being blamed for an eating disorder. No one actually gained any weight (eye roll) so I’m safe but now I have to:

  1. Find fatter friends.
  2. Take tons of pictures with them, post to Instagram.
  3. Get at least 100 comments on Instagram saying how skinny/hot/sexy I look.
  4. Drop fat friends.
  5. Get really drunk with old, skinny friends.
  6. Avoid getting so drunk that I wind up at Jack in the Box.
  7. Avoid getting so drunk that I allow a stranger named Jack to put anything in my Box.
  8. Find a human being I like half as much as I like Taylor Swift’s album.
  9. Find a human being I like half as much as I like carrot cake.
  10. Find a human being that can take to me to a fair where they serve deep-fried Twinkies.
  11. Speaking of fairs, avoid getting into a conversation with anyone going to a “Ren Fair.”
  12. Buy new music so that I actually have something to say when you reference Imagine Dragons whilst I’m sipping wine, trying to get into your pants.
  13. Stop using words like “whilst” so I can increase my chances of getting into your pants.
  14. Find a way to work the words “ratchet” and “cooze” into conversation in a natural way so as to appear more youthful and make it believable when I tell you I’m 25.
  15. Start a new job that doesn’t require me to plot an evacuation route in the event that I stab someone.
  16. Help Your Facebook Status Sounds Like a Suicide Note steer clear of any pet adoptions.
  17. Force neighbor who wears socks with sandals to make eye contact with me.
  18. Force neighbor who wears socks with sandals to abandon the socks.
  19. Wait, he probably has gross feet, so I’m going to amend that to force neighbor who wears socks with sandals to switch to sneakers.
  20. Figure out once and for all why fat-free cheese doesn’t melt the same as regular cheese.
  21. Write email to current friends reminding them that if they get into better shape than me, I’m dropping them.
  22. Make Naturally Thin “accidentally” gain 10 lbs to even out the playing field.
  23. Force my gym nemesis to find a new gym by starting a small fire in the parking lot and planting the lighter on him.
  24. Talk to Gym Crush.
  25. Have sex with Gym Crush.
  26. Find new gym crush in the event that sex with Gym Crush turns into a relationship with Gym Crush thereby cursing me with relationship pounds.
  27. Try to buy a block of cheese and not eat the entire thing in one sitting.
  28. Never, ever, ever do this again:

2012 really went out with a bang.

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So…I’m Training Your Facebook Status Sounds Like a Suicide Note


Somewhere off camera, someone is dangling a pastry.

My good friend, Your Facebook Status Sounds Like a Suicide Note, told me she was going on a diet/exercise program, so I skipped the part where she asked for my advice and immediately created an Excel spreadsheet with fat-burning workouts for her. I mean, I’m a pretty awesome friend. And so is she.

YFSSLaSN is basically me if I was a girl. Although if I was that pretty and had those boobs I’d be sluttier. Oh, and if I had a gay best friend that told me my hair looks awesome when I flatiron it, I’d listen and do it all the time. Oh, and if I sent him a picture of my outfit for a potential date and his response was “your hair looks great,” I wouldn’t take the compliment, I’d read between the lines and change my shirt. So… no, we’re nothing alike, but that’s okay.

She had no choice but to go along because she’s a people pleaser and she knows that deep down if I help her lose weight then it’ll make me feel good about myself. Having the best hair in the group is starting to lose its luster and I need to be the best at something else.Photo1

Things got off to a bit of a bumpy start when I told her she was no longer allowed to eat cheese. You would have thought I had asked her to sow her vagina shut. I understood her skepticism at being able to abstain from dairy (shit- I sometimes have to imagine a leaky cow udder to keep me from face planting in a bowl of queso) but I had already removed all sharp objects from her apartment after her last status update, so cutting into a block of Jack Cheddar was gonna be a challenge anyway.

Our first trip to the gym was a success considering that the last and only time we ever worked out was four years ago when I caused her to have an asthma attack. I used my foolproof method of making sure she found a gym crush to distract from the pain of squats and burpees. She’s into big guys with beards and as luck would have it all the methed- out male models were on vacation that day and the gym was full of lumberjack like former football players who were roiding out. We hit the jackpot in terms of possibilities.

She fell off the exercise ball while doing abs. Yes, I could have told her about the time I was en route to say hello to Gym Crush when my headphones snagged on a piece of equipment, nearly decapitating me in the process. I’m sure it would have made her feel better. But instead I said, “get up and try again.”

And she did.

Go ahead, slow clap.

I know what you’re thinking. The moral of the story is if at first you don’t succeed, try again. Eh, but it’s not.

I was afraid that without me there to encourage her she might give up completely. I really didn’t want her to fail and I really didn’t want to blamed for her failure. So, being the good friend that I am, I grabbed a hundred dollar bill and went into work waving it in the air,  looking for a guy to date her.

The real moral of the story is: if at first you don’t succeed, make sure you have a friend who is willing to pay someone to date and subsequently dump you, creating a broken-hearted tailspin so devastating that it becomes nearly impossible to eat, leading to an immediate loss of 5-10lbs.

A friend like me.


After checking the Facebook invite and deciding not to go she updated her status to: “Another Friday night closer to buying a cat.”

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Thoughts from the Gym, Downton Abbey Edition


If Lady Edith is getting married before you, just give up.

No one tell Your Facebook Status Sounds like a Suicide Note that Lady Edith is getting married before she is.

  1. If my trainer ever degraded me by having me work out right next to the snack stand I’d immediately go home and shame eat.
  2. No, Yoga Chick; do not smile at me, I will not be pulled into the LA Fitness Circle of Trolls. I’d rather be fat. (lie)
  3. I have to spend at least half the amount of time at the gym today as I did sitting in front of the TV watching Downton Abbey and eating chocolate last night.
  4. I ate an entire pizza by myself on Saturday which basically means I’m Edith.
  5. That’s not true. I’d almost certainly run off with the help, so really I’m a Sybil.
  6. Although I throw a lot of fits so I guess I’m a Mary.
  7. Though you’d be hard pressed to get me to marry my cousin.
  8. Gym Crush’s boyfriend is here solo which can only mean one thing: the stress of the holidays tore them apart and they are never ever ever getting back together!
  9. The fact that I know who Gym Crush’s boyfriend is would lead one to believe that I spend a lot of time at the gym so where are my GD abs already?
  11. If Gym Crush doesn’t return from Xmas vacation soon, 2nd in Position is getting a promotion.
  12.  No, Weird -Slightly Brain Damaged -Probably a Male Escort- Guy, do not smile at me, I don’t want to share workout tips.
  13. I wonder if he makes more money than me.
  14. Everybody makes more money than me.
  15. God, I hate my life.
  16. I wish I was a Crawley.
  17. Gossiping over Tea, long afternoon walks, formal dress for dinner, a post dinner cigar/brandy, throwing shade at Edith… I could fucking rock living in Downton Abbey.
  18. Congratulations on winning the state wrestling championship in 2002 Smelly- Hooded Sweatshirt- Guy! Unfortunately that means that you’ve had that shirt for at least 10 years, and if I -who received a D+ in Pre-Calc -can do that math, then the rest of the people in this gym…oh never mind, these are some of the dumbest people I’ve ever seen in my life.
I don't have to take your test. All I have to do is pinch my lower back.

I don’t have to take your test. All I have to do is pinch my lower back.


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The Gym Threesome

Every gym has one: The Gym Threesome.You know these guys. They’re teenagers. They travel in a pack. One is the leader, one is fat and the other one is almost always Asian. Young guys who are still too insecure to work out alone. Sure, they get points for their contribution to reducing carbon emissions by carpooling, but everything else about this group is a DUD.



For our purposes, let’s name them. The leader? He’s Chad. Chad is the only one in the group who has a chance at getting laid. This is most likely the reason the threesome has congregated at the gym today instead of the skate park. Chad has caught the eye of a young lady who hasn’t yet figured out that how good a guy is in bed is directly proportional to how much of an asshole he is. (It’s true, ask anyone. I’m a huge asshole.) Not yet having learned that the way to interest a girl is to treat her like shit, Chad decides he’s going to fit in a couple of gym seshes in an effort to tone his abs before he attempts to deflower his young lover over a light dinner menu of Domino’s Pizza and Boone’s Farm. I’m not mad at Chad. At least he has a purpose. I do envy him though because the fact of the matter is his abs will look better after ten crunches than mine will in ten weeks simply because Chad is seventeen and I’m



Then there’s the fat one. Let’s call him Gus. It’s obvious by his size that Gus is only in this as long as Chad is. He’s secretly praying that Chad turns this Friday night Strawberry Fields soaked escapade into a serious two month relationship and thus returning Gus’ afternoons back to their normal routine: masturbating, snacking and playing Call of Duty. I always feel bad for the Gus in a group because he has no female counterpart. You know the skinny high school bitches are NOT taking a fat girl with them to the gym.  Whenever I see a Gus I secretly pray for a heavy-set sister in solidarity somewhere in the gym who can fall in love with a guy whose cheeks turn bright red after two reps of bench.



Then there’s the Asian. I realize that’s a broad term, so let’s get specific and name him Filipino. Filipino is always amped, he’s always wearing shorts two sizes too big and he’s always the one getting in my goddamn way. Nothing will make me throw shade at the gym faster than someone stepping on my foot. (Except you Gym Crush, I wish you weren’t so athletically inclined and limber and perfect because you could have stepped on my foot like ten times by now and we could have taken our relationship to the next level, you know, the one where we actually speak and you say “I’m sorry for stepping on your foot,” and then you smile and I’m all “it’s totally fine, no worries,” and you’re all “you wanna make out after this?” and I’m all, “let’s just leave and do it now.”)   I don’t know why Filipino is so excited that he can’t help but bounce into my personal space but my theory is that he’s a bottom feeder and he’s hoping Chad’s piece has a slightly more desperate friend that he can snag.

Regardless, every time he steps on my foot Chad always has to be the one to tell Filipino to watch out and then gives me a look that says “sorry man” like we’re bros. What Chad doesn’t know is that I may look like him on the outside, but on the inside I’m Gus, and the reason I gave Filipino such a dirty look is because I too cannot wait to get the F outta here, go home, get my snack on, and masturbate.

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New Year, New You! (Girl, Please.)

Even Twitter knows who I am and how I do.

We found love in a hopeless place.

It’s the most depressing time of the year: the post holiday week. Worse than the Tuesday that follows Memorial Day when you realize you were the fattest person at your friend’s pool party. Or July 5th when that realization was reinforced. Or the Tuesday after Labor Day when you have to come to grips with the fact that “Trish” the teenager that works the desk at Sun Tans-a -Go isn’t there anymore because school is back in session and now you’ve tanned yourself six shades darker than you need to be because tanned fat looks better than pale fat.

It’s a !!! New Year !!! so it’s time to wipe the slate clean and start over, right? Wrong, fat kid, wrong. The reason you’re so fat is because you don’t love yourself and everyone knows that if you don’t love you, then nobody else is gonna have sex with you love you either.

So, let’s celebrate what’s RIGHT about you.

  1. You might be a fat kid- but you know what? No one at the pool party is making fun of you. They’re too busy talking shit on the skinny host because everyone knows you can’t be that skinny without an eating disorder. And fuck her for having a pool.
  2. So you spent Friday night polishing off another carton eating mint chocolate chip ice cream and singing along to Taylor Swift? At least you’re not Taylor Swift. She’s had sex with John Mayer and that Fraggle Rock looking dude from One Direction, which in theory should make her seem slutty- but she’s still so boring no one can even be bothered to say it.
  3. Assuming that when you get in shape you’ll start dating more? I thought the same thing until I went out on a date that was so awful I had to stab myself in the leg under the table with a fork in an effort to divert my attention from the pain being perpetrated at my ears. You can be as skinny as you want and it won’t change the fact that everyone else is pretty much an asshole so go ahead, YOLO,  eat the fucking cake.
  4. You can’t fit into your clothes anymore? Good for you! You get to buy some new shit and keep the poor little Cambodian child that stitches together your garments for a penny a day in business. You’re not just fat, you’re also a philanthropist.
  5. You might not be the skinniest one in your group of friends but chances are you have the best snacks in your house out of anybody- and nine times out of ten that’s the deal maker that guarantees I’m coming over to hang out.
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