Pastry of the Year posted:

Pastry of the Year sighs as he clicks Reply

As much as I love the whole Jeff and shrimp thing --

Post Your Favorite (or Request): Coldly Compiled Lists › shit_that_didnt_happen.txt: I decide to jizz

System Metternich posted:

Besesoth posted:

I really don't want to know how "TIFU by letting my daughter hold my grocery list" involves jizz.

quote:

My daughter has been reading for a good long while. She's a bright and articulate kid, and reading came naturally to her at a very early age. I'd like to take credit for that poo poo, but I can't.

It was time for our weekly grocery trip and she was pretty excited that it was going to be just us girls. Her enthusiasm was adorable.

"Mommy, can I hold the list?" she asked.

"Of course, lovebug, I'd like that. You just read what we need, and I'll grab it and put in the basket," I replied, beaming down at my little helper.

Typically the first section we hit in the grocery store is the produce section. So there we were, picking up berries and cilantro and whatever the gently caress else when she reminds me we need a cantaloupe. Instead of turning the cart around and trekking back toward the front of the produce section, I wheeled my cart to an out of the way spot and told my daughter to stay put while I grabbed a melon.

Now, I'm sure cantaloupe doesn't confuse everyone. But for a moment I was struck completely dumb, holding a melon aloft in my hand, thoughtfully eyeballing it, and trying not to look like a crazy person. Do I smell it? Thump it? Press the navel? Hold a pair up in front of my shirt and giggle? (I'm a mom - not a saint - that poo poo is funny.) I was confused about the intricacies of proper melon picking technique.

I must have been taking too long contemplating cantaloupes. My daughter must have gotten a little bored and decided to work ahead on the list. From across the produce section I hear my daughter's angelic voice call out over so many ears of corn and in front the eyes of so many potatoes, "Mommy?! Did you get the coffee jizz?"

I put the melon down. I made a noise in my throat that is pretty much universal for, “oh Jesus, did my baby just say that?” I blushed furiously and watched as heads turned our way. I considered for one brief moment fleeing through the glass sliding doors and pretending I didn't know her. In what felt like slow motion, I went to her, half giggling - half total mortification, and told her that while it was MY mistake to write the word, she really shouldn't say it again.

Yeah, see guys, sometimes you name things like Coffee-Mate after terrible things. If you do, I recommend one of three things:
Don't let your adorable child hold your list. Learn how to inspect and choose a loving melon before the kid gets bored and actually reads said list. Don’t be a dirty old woman.

Furia posted:

I canmot parse any of that

Zipperelli. posted:

This isn't incorrect, but it's a dishonest framing of the at-will law in the U.S.

quote:

Hello hello! How is everyone doin' tonight? Long time lurker, first time poster here! I've been around for a while seeing all these stories about their run-ins with the caloric catastrophes of mankind and thought I'd give my story as well! Wanted to share something that had happened to me a month back on the subway while going home from school (no car, school is far and gas is $$$).

TL;DR: Ham planet tries to force me out of my seat so she can sit in two seats. I refuse and someone comes to my aid.

So, here goes...I give you the tale of Queen 'Beetus and Her Red Thrones.

Be me: 6'3 250 lbs college student trying to go home from school after a long winding day of midterms.

Be RandoMan: 5"10 thin lookin' guy, Top Tier BAMF (he comes in later).

Don't be: Queen 'Beetus, her Royal Highness to Planet Ham, Grace of the Kentucky Fried Knights, Defender of the Caloric Cosmos. 5'2, EASILY 320 lbs or more.

Setting: Long, packed subway. Have to be on this subway line for 15 stops, only to have to go to another subway line for another 8 stops. Really hot day outside, subway smells of dying onion and worker's depression. Each seat is red, and there are blue ones available for handicapped people. Each seat is taken, one of which I have occupied. Please note that there are no single seats on this train, and that if it is packed, you WILL sit next to someone.

Getting off the bus to the station I need to be at, talking to new friend I had made at school. Tells me he's taking another bus to get home.

"I'll see you later Kingofthekek, hope nobody gives you trouble today".

Oh, friend, how ignorant of the system you are. As I bid my friend farewell, I proceed downstairs to wait for the subway. As usual, by the time I'm there, It's getting packed (usually happens around 4:00 PM). A train on the right side finally arrives and I make my way inside. The horde of transit users assault the innards of this train similar to how Han Solo cut open his Tauntaun to keep himself warm in The Empire Strikes Back. The rush of people walking into the train along with the horrid stench of the sun-bathed workers pierces my nose. I can't wait to get home at this point.

Getting home, however, would prove to be a mission. Knowing how packed it was today, It would take me two hours to get home. I sit back and wallow in the pain of knowing I had to endure the smell of someone who had a run-in with death a little earlier.

Half way into my trip, surprisingly, most people get off the train, leaving it fairly regular in population, as I'm used to. I bellow a sigh of relief, knowing that the rest of my convoluted trip will be spent somewhat in comfort. Looking around, however, I noticed that most people were still in seats, and that I may be the only person without someone sitting next to me.

"Good" I thought to myself, "Maybe I won't have to deal with someone who insists on sticking their elbow into my sides today".
Unfortunately for me, I'm no psychic. With that being said, in walks...her.

The queen, the mistress, the gelatinous galactic gummy grog of glutton herself: Queen 'Beetus, her Royal Highness to Planet Ham, Grace of the Kentucky Fried Knights, Defender of the Caloric Cosmos.

She enters the train directly from the door I had been sitting next to and I swear, the moment she stepped onto the train, I felt it tip to the right a little. She enters and immediately I had noticed that something wasn't right. Something about ME wasn't right. It was at that moment I had figured out that there was a unionized assault on my nose, and the entire olfactory had gone on strike. The smell was so bad, that I had picked it up for what seemed to be a few seconds until the smell had gone completely, though she was standing right next to me.

As I sit there, alone, my eyes agape with the realization that such a woman existed, she approaches me.
Immediately what I had noticed about her was (besides her stench) was that she clearly was celebrating the bicentennial of not taking a shower. Her hair was shining so vehemently in the lighting of the subway, and not in a good way. Her hair was horridly glossy, covered in sweat and oil. This lady must be a millionaire, because she must be the person who supplies KFC with their cooking grease (now vegan!). She had some wicked acne. I swear if you took a blind man and had him touch her face it would probably spell "HAZARD" in braille. I could play connect the dots on her back and probably make a giraffe.

As she approaches me, she glares at me. Not looks, glares. She, with her backpack on (which seemed tiny, due to her proportions) looks me dead in the eyes and says:

"Get up".

"Pardon?" I ask in a befuddled manner.

"Get up, I want to sit down".

"Well, there's a free seat next to me, so if you'd like-"

"No, I need BOTH seats".

At this point, I'm held back from what she just said. That was until I realized that the Queen was so large, so enormous in stature and weight, that she required a single seat per asscheek. When I had initially realized this fact, I couldn't help but laugh in my head. To think that someone can expand to a size in which they require the length of a monster truck tire to sit down somewhere is astounding!

"I need both seats now, so get up".

"You can't just sit in this one seat?" I ask, knowing well that she COULD but chooses not to.

"No! I don't understand the issue, why can't you just get up and let a disabled woman sit!?" she remarks.

Good lord. She did not just say that. I had to confirm with her.

"Oh, you're disabled? Do you suffer from some sort of glandular issue?"

I shouldn't have said this, for it had only angered the queen. You see, I'm normally not the kind of person to roast someone in public, or in general really. However, today I was not having it. I didn't want to deal with this kind of thing, especially not after midterms.

"HOW DARE YOU! YOU RUDE SON OF A BITCH!" She yells, grabbing the attention of every train goer.

That burst kinda got me shook for a moment, because she really jumped from passive aggressive to active aggressive (if she could jump at all). I notice a guy across from me looking at her and chuckling with a big smile on his face. This, ladies and gentleman, is the hero of the story, the man himself, Mr. RandoMan.

"I'm not going to tell you again kid, get the hell out of my seat right now" she says.

I raise my brows and say "your seat?"

"MY SEAT. GET UP."

And queue the hero, piping up to usurp the queen by saying the golden phrase:

"Maybe people wouldn't have to get up if you just ate less you fat bitch"

My eyes widen significantly, for several reasons. First one being: "that was pretty mean dude, but also holy poo poo you're my hero" and the other being: "(queue laugh track)". In doing this, he had kicked the hornets nest. She turns around, gives me a view of her rear end crack, looks him dead in the eyes and just starts to give him an earful. When I mean an earful, I mean an EARFUL. I don't even remember what she said, I was still held aback from what RandoMan said earlier. All I know is that he ended up telling her that "he doesn't need to get up from his seat just because your rear end is wider than the train doors". I lul internally again.

The queen had enough of this verbal assault and had called it upon herself to summon her Kentucky Fried Knights. Though it would take them a while, because running is ableist. Instead, she had called the transit officers to get me to get out of my seat.

The transit officers arrive and I explain the situation to them, so did RandoMan, coming to the aid of a lowly peasant such as myself. We explain that she demanded that I get up so she can occupy both seats, and that I had left the seat next to me open so that she may sit. I even offered it to her. She insisted on both seats. While this was going on, she was having a big spiel about how her cundishuns don't let her stand and that she needs 2 seats to make herself comfortable.

She claimed that we were verbally abusing her and that not letting her sit down was discrimination and that I should (I'm not even kidding) be arrested on those grounds. They're transit officers mind you, not police officers. They have civilian powers of arrest, so they can't really arrest me or even RandoMan for something like that (or so I hope).

This went on for a bit, so much so that the train had to be stopped temporarily just to solve the situation. She just kept going on about how I wouldn't give her both seats, running at the mouth ad infinitum like a rabid dog that survived on nothing but twinkies cream and the souls of the innocent.

The transit officers explain to her that what she was asking for is pretty unreasonable, and that if she wanted two seats she should probably be on another train. Queen 'Beetus, naturally, didn't like this conclusion.

"YOU CAN'T BE SERIOUS, HE'S DISCRIMINATING AGAINST ME AND YOU'RE TAKING HIS SIDE? WHAT KIND OF loving PERSON ARE YOU! IT'S HARD BEING ME AND ASSHOLES LIKE YOU ARE MAKING IT WORSE FOR PEOPLE LIKE ME" etc.

The transit officers, naturally, felt some hostility from her, having a finger jammed in their faces. So they, naturally, try escorting her off the train. Once again, her galactic gluttonousness seemed to disagree, adding:

"YOU'RE ALL loving PIGS, I'M TAKING YOU ALL TO COURT AND SUING YOU ALL FOR DISCRIMINATING AGAINST A DISABLED PERSON!"

She's finally escorted off the train, and I finally get room to breathe.

quote:

My birthday was a big deal to me. Like most women, I don’t have a birthday DAY, I have a birthday month. Turning 18 was especially important to me because after this, I would be joining the Coast Guard. I worked out extra hard to make sure I was in good enough shape for boot camp. During this, my parents planned a birthday party extravaganza. I and my friend Soccer Babe had birthdays a week apart and we usually celebrated them together. This year, we were going to go all out and do a massive formal dance at a hotel for our 18th birthdays and invite half of the school. I was even more excited to invite my crush because maybe then I could finally woo him to have my first summer romance.

Soccer Babe and I worked out all the details and passed out invitations in secret so that Pool Ham wouldn’t get a hold of it. She had made it her top priority over that last month to stick to me like glue, claiming that we were ‘best friends’ so it was hard to pass out the invites in a discreet manner. Fortunately, Manderp and Tall Ginger were there to help and passed out all the invites to people. There would be a dinner Olive Carbs to lead up to the dance and we were all looking forward to it. Me and Soccer Babe both bought fancy dresses and got our hair done professionally the afternoon of our party. Feeling like royalty, we met up at the restaurant with the rest of our party. Even College Bro was there! Soccer Babe made faces at the two of us from across the table as I tried to make a good impression. Before we could even order drinks, I smelled it. The fishy smell mixed with B.O. and terrible, horrible perfume.

“Nordic! Happy birthday!”

Someone had loving squealed to Pool Ham about my birthday party. Heart sinking in my chest, I looked up in horror to see Pool Ham standing there in a large black dress that was obviously not large enough because her voluptuous chest was spilling out the top and her porky appendages looked like they were turning purple.

Soccer Babe shot me a look and I merely shrugged. She was with Dork Bro, the guy who she obviously met in gym class who was wearing a fedora and button down shirt. At least he looked kind of nice. The waiter got two more chairs and she sat down next to Dork Bro. Conversation continued and College Bro asked me how it was going with the Coast Guard application process. I opened my mouth to tell him but Pool Ham interrupted me.

“Oh my God, Nordic! I have to tell you about last night, girl! Me and Dork Bro got really frisky, check this out!” She lifted her flabby arm and I saw a bruise in her soft white flesh about the size of Dork Bro’s mouth. I internally cringed as College Bro’s mouth opened and closed like a fish, “And he’s got such a nice dick, Nordic! Like…” She held up a breadstick, “Like this!”

I realized that I could never eat bread ever again. She tried to tell me more about her sexcapades with Dork Bro, but Tall Ginger turned to me on my other side.

“Hey, do you wanna split something? I can never eat this all on my own!” She said with a nervous laugh. I nodded and we both turned our eyes down at the menu. Thank you, Tall Ginger! I thought to myself as the waiter came to take our orders. Pool Ham ordered three appetizers for herself and the biggest entrée they had. I gawked in amazement as she then ordered a piece of their super chocolaty cake for dessert. When her apps came, they were gone in the blink of an eye. I’m pretty sure at this point, people were gawking at the whale as she stuffed breadsticks and salad into her gaping maw. She also had no problem finishing off the entrée or cheesecake. Tall Ginger pushed her helping of pasta away and looked a bit green. I too found I had lost my desire to eat.

After plates had been cleared, checks were passed around. Tall Ginger offered to pay for my bill since it was my birthday and I accepted gratefully.

“If you’re paying for Nordic Nonsense’s food, who’s going to pay for mine?” Pool Ham questioned, looking at me stupidly.

“Uh, you are. Or your boyfriend is.” Soccer Babe pointed out.

“But Nordic, you invited us! You should pay for us!” Pool Ham wailed, causing a scene. Manderp had had enough.

“It’s Nordic and Soccer Babe’s big day, so they’re not paying for anything!” She barked back, “So pay for your own drat food!”

Here came the crocodile tears again, “Manderp! Why are you being so mean? I don’t have any money and neither does Dork Bro! We came and thought everything was going to be paid for!” She looked over at me for conformation, but I merely shook my head, biting my tongue to keep from telling her to gently caress off in a public setting.

Finally, it was decided that seven or eight of our friends would foot her and Dork Bro’s bill and we left the restaurant. As soon as we were outside, Pool Ham’s pudgy arm was through mine. “I’m so sorry, Nordic! I thought you were gonna pay for everyone!”

Tall Ginger rolled her eyes as I quickly slipped my arm out of hers, “Well I guess we’ll see you later, Pool Ham.” I said with a wave.

“No wait! We need a ride! My dad dropped us off.” She wailed, grabbing my arm again.

Soccer Babe saved the day on that one, “You guys can come with me. Nordic, you can go with College Bro.”

I nodded and he said it was okay. We piled into separate cars and we were well on our way. “Dude, what the hell is up with your fat friend?” He asked as soon as we were safe behind metal doors.

“Someone told her we were having the party.” I sighed, defeated, “I’m not strong enough to tell her to leave.”

“Well, if you’re not going to do it, I will.” He announced, pulling out of the parking lot. My terrible nature got the better of me.

“No, she can stay. I feel bad kicking someone out of my birthday party. Besides, it’s just the dance and she can’t really bother me there.” I mumbled looking out the car window.

When we arrived at the venue, my mom came out to the parking lot looking like she was sucking on a Warhead. “What the gently caress is Pool Ham doing here?” She demanded, “Please don’t tell me you invited her, Nordic.”

“I didn’t,” I replied lamely, “She invited herself.”

Momma Nordic took a deep breath and exhaled sharply through her nose, “Well, I guess we can’t do much about it then. Does she have a ride? Daddy Nordic can kick her out.”

“No, Soccer Babe drove her.” I said miserably, feeling like I might cry, “Momma Nordic, she tried to make me pay for her at the restaurant!”

Momma Nordic furrowed her brows, trying to think of a solution. “Okay. I’m going to go tell Daddy Nordic that she and Dork Bro need to go.”

“Good idea, Momma Nordic,” College Bro agreed as he took my hand kissed the back of it and we walked into the venue. Inside, it was incredible. There were disco lights, the music was thumping, there was a good selection of snacks and in the middle of it all…The cake to end all cakes.

My friend Smol Fry’s mom is an incredible baker and for our birthday, she had made a three tier cake with white and black frosting with a gorgeous 18 carefully and lovingly traced on the top in strawberry icing. It would have been perfect…if there wasn’t a massive whale grinding up on her anchovy like boyfriend on the dance floor. Her dress was hiked up to around her hips and you could easily see the control top panties she was wearing that were trying their best to control her top. Sex on the dance floor had never looked so…flabby.

Soccer Babe walked over to me, “Dude, we gotta get them out of here.” She yelled over the music. I nodded and walked up to Daddy Nordic who was the DJ.

“Daddy Nordic, can you tell them that they’re not welcome here?” I shouted at him. I have always had a special bond with my father, being a daddy’s girl my entire life and he got up from his seat, walked over to the couple getting down and started yelling at them that they were not welcome there. Pool Ham started shouting back until she ran over to me, tears in her eyes again.

“Nordic! Your dad is trying to throw us out! It’s your party, tell him he can’t do that!” She whined. That was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

“No, get the gently caress out of my party! You’ve ruined everything and you weren’t even invited! Get out and stay out!” I shouted at her, pointing at the door.

“How do you expect us to get home?! You’re such a bitch!” She screamed at me before grabbing Dork Bro’s hand and storming out of the ball room. I would say that everyone clapped, but then this story would have to go on a different subreddit. After that, the part continued on without a hitch, people dancing with one another until we were all hot, sweaty and tired.

“We’re going to cut the cake now!” Momma Nordic said into the microphone and Soccer Babe and I rushed over to the decedent three layer masterpiece to see…

Ruin. All three tiers had sloppy, massive holes gouged out of the beautiful craftsmanship as if someone had grabbed handfuls of cake. I looked over at Soccer Babe who looked like she might cry. Of course, we knew what had happened. While everyone had been distracted with dancing, Pool Ham had snuck back into the ballroom and had ruined our beautiful cake.

After a nervous and shaky chorus of ‘Happy Birthday’ I switched into Moby Dick mode and went to hunt down my elusive white whale.

Dear reader, as much as I wish I could say that I triumphed and destroyed Pool Ham that very night, I must admit, she had left without a trace. And although I wish I had gotten my revenge that night, I still have an epilogue that shall tell you the fate of our dear sweet Pool Ham.

quote:

Cast:
ColdCornSparkles (CCS): Me, 5'5, 180lbs now, on a weight loss journey and making it.

Gas Station Ham (GSH): Seemingly early 40's, about 5'7 and approx 450lbs. Has to walk with crutches since she can't do it unsupported it seems.

Before I start, I don't live in the US, so if my description of said gas station differs a bit from what you're used to, that's why.

My local gas station has a small grocery store attached to it. This place has been a life saver for me on many occasions.

Possibly it's only fault is that it has 6 parking spaces directly in front of it, and the rest are across the gas station, about 500 meters away from it. If you're not a ham, this isn't a big deal. But if you are...oh boy. I discovered that today.

I pulled up to get a few things, and somehow managed to get the last parking space in front of the grocery. I had just gotten out of the car when I heard this ungodly screeching "HEYYY". I turned around, to find that GSH had pulled up behind my car, rolled her window down and was shouting.

CCS: Can I help you?

GSH (in a super irritated tone, as if I'd really done something to her): I'm sorry, would you MIND moving your car elsewhere? I need this spot.

At this point I'd really only see half her face sticking out the car window, but I could see tires where chins should be and I already knew what this was going to be about. That being said, I didn't feel like obliging her.

CCS: I'll be about 5 minutes, I only need a few things.

I rush off inside and think I've seen the last of her. Wrong. She comes inside after a while, using both crutches, sweating and heaving from walking. She finds me in the aisle.

GSH: hey! You! Girlie! Look at me! You need to learn to have RESPECT for your elders. You could see I needed that spot and you chose to ignore me. It's disgusting behavior.

She approaches me, lumbering with effort and At this point I'm hit with the most ungodly smell. She smelled like what I imagine would happen if a skunk and a rotten pack of broccoli mixed scents. It was literally so bad that I had to hold my breath for a bit to not take in the smell. Yet, you know, I'm the disgusting one and GSH isn't finished telling me this.

GSH: I want you to apologize to me. I have several conditions and this makes walking very hard for me. You made me put myself in medical danger and I want an apology.

CCS: I'm sorry that you feel I did wrong by you.

GSH: Girlie, that's not good enough. Because of you I'm going to have to walk back to my car once I'm finished here. What are you going to do about it?

CCS: Huh?

GSH: I have to put myself in medical danger again. I have to keep my heartbeat low and walking raises it. Your selfishness is contributing to my condition.

At this point I'd had enough. I said I was sorry once again and walked away. She then made a huge show of telling all the cashiers how I was the reason she might die today in their shop and that I should be arrested if her heart gives out in the store.

I don't think I've ever met someone as crazy as that. I'm so glad I don't know her.

ETA: I meant 200m not 500m. Am a bit sleep deprived.

quote:

My parents became godparents to their friend's (who we'll call L) little 7y/o girl last August when she was baptized. As usual, L had planned a huge party after the baptizing.

There was tacos made with fresh tortillas, ice cream exclusively for the kids which could only be gotten with tickets my mother handed out, a jumper, and lots of beer for all the adults.

So we get to the party and everything is good, especially the tacos. I ate 3, and I watched everyone else as they socialized and ate their food.

So this one guy, we'll call him Planet, looked about 6 feet tall and weighed at least 300 pounds. He was a nice guy, and from my previous experiences he never really showed any fat logic or attitude.

My parents and I stopped getting tacos because we were very full but we kept seeing Planet request more again and again. Now they were free, so who could blame anyone, but him being a big guy we figured he was going to eat 10 at most. Now these aren't little tacos you get from food trucks which are double wrapped in a tortilla, these shits are about 6 inches in diameter. He had left with more tacos every 5 or so minutes and the cook called L. L asked what was wrong and the server said in Spanish, "Hey should I keep serving that guy? He's already had 63 tacos."

L loves to gossip and she told us first because my parents were the godparents to her daughter, and we were trying our hardest not to hold in our laughter. We could not believe that Planet had eaten more than half the people there (there was about 30 people), or that the cook had been counting in the first place.

Needless to say, he was not served after and tbe cook ran all out of flour and meat for the tacos. Intrestingly enough, the cook also mentioned Planet has never served himself any fruit salad. He also tried to get one of the kids to give him their ticket to get ice cream.

Thursday Next posted:

there's an entire rich universe of untapped STDH, my friends

quote:

I would say that everyone clapped, but then this story would have to go on a different subreddit.

Thursday Next posted:

I can't anymore. It's r/fatpeoplestories and it is the biggest source of STDH written in this insufferable twee way.

kimbo305 posted:

What is... fat logic?

Thursday Next posted:

Hello hello! How is everyone doin' tonight? Long time lurker, first time poster here! I've been around for a while seeing all these stories about their run-ins with the caloric catastrophes of mankind and thought I'd give my story as well! Wanted to share something that had happened to me a month back on the subway while going home from school (no car, school is far and gas is $$$).

Seventh Arrow posted:

How self-conscious do you have to be to make excuses for taking the subway?

CROWS EVERYWHERE posted:

Also OP's measurements from the first one put him firmly in the obese category, though I'm sure it's all muscle

E: I mean either way he's an rear end in a top hat making fun of fat people but don't make fun of fat people if you too are fat people

Seventh Arrow posted:

How self-conscious do you have to be to make excuses for taking the subway?

Fathis Munk posted:

Fat logic is : Fat people dumb and entitled hurr hurr hurr.

The reddit writing style is the worst loving thing it makes me so mad. It's written in such a desperate attempt to be clever and just oozes smugness.

quote:

Welcome back, my human with the rustled jimmies. I hope there was enough justice dished out on other people’s stories to allow you for some soothing…for the time being. This will be the ending of The Pool Ham Saga, so I want to thank all of you for commenting, reading and sticking with me till the end. Now, onto the soothing of the sweet, sweet jimmies! It would be really cool if you could be…

Me: Nordic Nonsense, from 18 to 23, still a badass beluga whale hunter through and through.

Tall Ginger: She and my boyfriend could be siblings. Still one of my best friends in the universe.

FOR THE LOVE OF THE ‘BEETUS GODS DO NOT BE…

Pool Ham: Now a fatty AND has an excuse to be more of an rear end in a top hat. Becomes even more hammy as time goes on.

Dork Bro: Wimpy boyfriend of Pool Ham. STILL A MINOR LMAO.

It’s May and my last year of school is winding down to a close. I’m stressing out because boot camp is right around the corner and it’s finally hit me in the face with acne all over my skin. I hadn’t spoken to Pool Ham since our birthday party (not that I really wanted to) but I knew that she and Dork Bro were still dating and would often sit in the courtyard, her fat rolls of flab falling off his lap as they made out. Let me point out that Dork Bro still isn’t legal at this point.

At some point, I heard through the grapevine she had been diagnosed with severe bipolar disorder and that made her even more of an rear end in a top hat and unbearable. But, there are rumors going around the school about Pool Ham and Dork Bro. Rumors that they have indeed been sleeping together. During finals week, Pool Ham was called into the guidance counselor during a passing period and that was the last time anyone saw Pool Ham inside our school’s halls. She didn’t walk at graduation, and nobody saw her for the rest of the summer. Turns out that somebody had breathed word of her romance with Dork Bro and one of them fessed up to sleeping with the other one so guess who got charged with Statutory Rape? That’s right, ladies and gents, Pool Ham. They knocked it down to a sexual misconduct as far as I knew, but Pool Ham finally had gotten what was coming for her. I guess that Dork Boy’s mother had no idea about their relationship either.

As much as I’d like to admit that this is the last time I heard about Pool Ham, I can tell you that it was not. Now, fast forward four years. When I went home last winter for Christmas, I was hanging out with Tall Ginger, my best friend from back home at a local bar where I had never been before since I left my hometown before my 21st birthday. We’re sitting at the bar when this behemoth sits next to me. I barely recognize her with her chin length, greasy, blonde hair. She probably weighed in around 350 pounds and literally the bar stool creaked underneath her when she sat down.

“Oh my god, Nordic! How are you?” She asked, giving me a smile, her teeth even more yellow than before. When I couldn’t put a face to a name, she pointed at herself, “It’s Pool Ham, remember?”

I am a forgiving person. It’s in my nature. I’m now 22 years old and my 18th birthday is in the past. “Oh hey, Pool Ham. I didn’t even recognize you.”

She gave a little ‘tee-hee’ and then pulls out her phone, “That’s because I lost weight since high school! I actually had two kids and I bounced back super fast from the baby weight, if you can believe that.” She showed me a picture of her and I can’t figure out if I’m looking at a human being or the world’s biggest beach ball, “That’s me when I was pregnant.” Pool Ham glanced down at my dress and blinks, “When are you due, anyways? And you probably shouldn’t be drinking when you’re pregnant.”

My mouth hung open in shock. Tall Ginger threw a hand over her mouth to keep from doing her signature snort laugh, “Uh…I’m not pregnant.”

“But you’re so much bigger than you were in high school! Plus your face is so much rounder and your boobs are huge. You have to be pregnant, I would know.” She took a big gulp of her drink. Open mouth, insert foot.

“Listen, I’m on birth control and haven’t had sex since I got to the Island.” I said throwing my hands up in defense. Then my own mouth gets ahead of my brain, “Besides, I can’t believe you were able to tell you were pregnant so who are you to talk, really?”

Her quadruple chins touched her chest as her mouth hangs open in shock, “I’ll have you know…” She began as I held my hand up to stop her. My years of giving fucks were over and now, she would feel the full force of my fury.

“Listen, Pool Ham. You ruined my 18th birthday party. You kicked one of my best friends in the nose AND you were honestly the biggest pain in my rear end in high school. We were never friends, why do you think us being out of school would change anything? You’re still as obnoxious and rude as you were back then.”

Pool Ham merely scoffed, “You think just because you’re in the military that you can talk to me like that? I’m going to have my boyfriend kick your rear end!” She wiggled off the bar stool and waddled over to where this wispy bearded guy sat who only looked to weigh about 110 pounds. I ignored him as me and Tall Ginger paid our tabs and walked out the front door. Pool Ham slammed her meaty fists against Tall Ginger’s car hood and called us such names as C-U-Next-Tuesday and female dogs, damning us to Hell for eternity for the emotional trauma that we caused her. As we pulled out of the parking lot, Tall Ginger rolled down her window.

“That’s some tough poo poo coming from a registered sex offender!” She shouted as we drove off towards my parent’s house. We howled in laughter as we mocked Pool Ham and her boyfriend until we finally reached my house and she dropped me off.

And that, my friends, was the last time I ever heard from Pool Ham. I did do some stalking on her Facebook page and she actually has three kids from three different baby daddies now and is living on welfare. I feel terrible for those poor children who are going to have to live in that life, but honestly, Pool Ham got what was coming to her. Karma is a bitch when your name is Pool Ham.

-Fin-

tl;dr: Pool Ham becomes a sexual predator. She thinks I'm pregnant 4 years later. Lols ensue with Tall Ginger and the jimmies are finally soothed.

quote:

called us such names as C-U-Next-Tuesday and female dogs