Read Online You Don't Sweat Much for a Fat Girl by Celia Rivenbark - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Celia Rivenbark
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cover, though
You don’t know me from squat
I’m old enough to be your moms
But that don’t mean I’m dead
Cuz cool is ageless, word it is
And smarts is in your head
CHORUS
You say your pops was lousy
The dude walked out on you
If I could bust him in the jaw
That’s just what I’d do.
Copyright 2010 Talbot’s Petite Gun Party Records.
10
Loonies Litter Landscape of ( snicker ) The Learning Channel
O ctomom’s all over the TV again, and y’all have no idea how hard I’ve tried to avoid screaming, “You crazy bitch!” out loud every single time I see her give an interview.
The pups are a year old as I write this, bless their tiny, still-developing hearts. I wish them lives of sunshine and rainbows and unlimited really good-quality ice cream, not the gummy cheap stuff, because, let’s face it, that nutty broodmare of a mama they got is likely to try again.
I know, I know. It’s none of our business if she wants to keep that clown car of a uterus of hers on go. Right you are. So why does she make me crazy?
Hmmmmm. OK, I got it! It’s because she’s still yakking about becoming a counselor.
OK, she’s got fourteen kids, no job, and no husband, but
she’s going to counsel others? This is like getting relationship advice from Chris Brown; in other words, a colossally bad idea.
Could it only have been a year ago that we were introduced to Miz Thang and her sad family? Remember how her daddy crowed that a job had just opened up for him in Iraq so he wouldn’t be around to help out?
I feel ya, dude. You have to be pretty desperate to flee sunny California for Iraq voluntarily . But I’m guessing he’d eat sand-and-mustard sandwiches for months rather than hang out in that loony bin.
And poor Octomom’s mother is probably not far behind her husband. She’s probably browsing the help-wanted ads in the Kabul Penny Saver right about now.
Remember, she said she was “upset” when she learned that there were eight buns in the oven and they’d all be living with her in a three-bedroom house.
Upset?
No. Upset is when you do that thing where you’re brushing your teeth and all of a sudden the brush goes up your nostril for no good reason. This is, well, bigger than upset.
Truth is, I struggle with this whole subject a little because it’s tacky to poke fun at people who are, and I will use the clinical psychiatric term here, crazier’n a sprayed roach. It’s the same way I feel guilty looking at those “People of Walmart” photos that you see on the Internet. It’s not cool to make fun of pitiful people. You really think anyone who wasn’t batshit
crazy would walk out of the house in a camouflage mankini and a Confederate flag ball cap to go buy some new furnace filters? No, he’s cray-cray.
The only joy I got out of Octomom’s weird saga was how much it probably pissed off Kate Gosselin. Don’t you know she was freaking out about the possibility that Octoloon was going to inherit her show?
(“At least Jon and I were married. I mean, excuse my language, but criminy!”)
TLC loves freaky-big families. Low TV moment of the TLC week: When Jim Bob Duggar, daddy of nineteen and counting, advised his young bridegroom son that “sex is a lot like Legos.” I was hoping his bride-to-be would get wind of that and run like her clothes were on fire but, no. Like Legos? What does that even mean?
So while I’m uncomfortable snickering at people photographed while looking tacky at Walmart, I’m fine with berating those who set themselves up for publicity.
Which brings me to The Real Housewives of New Jersey. Y’all I had to start watching that show every week because, well, my IQ was just too high. I mean seriously up there. What can I tell you? After watching every episode, I am now officially as dumb as that brown, particle-like stuff you find outside and don’t want to track inside the house. Rhymes with “wirt,” I think.
The housewives are completely diverse
You don’t know me from squat
I’m old enough to be your moms
But that don’t mean I’m dead
Cuz cool is ageless, word it is
And smarts is in your head
CHORUS
You say your pops was lousy
The dude walked out on you
If I could bust him in the jaw
That’s just what I’d do.
Copyright 2010 Talbot’s Petite Gun Party Records.
10
Loonies Litter Landscape of ( snicker ) The Learning Channel
O ctomom’s all over the TV again, and y’all have no idea how hard I’ve tried to avoid screaming, “You crazy bitch!” out loud every single time I see her give an interview.
The pups are a year old as I write this, bless their tiny, still-developing hearts. I wish them lives of sunshine and rainbows and unlimited really good-quality ice cream, not the gummy cheap stuff, because, let’s face it, that nutty broodmare of a mama they got is likely to try again.
I know, I know. It’s none of our business if she wants to keep that clown car of a uterus of hers on go. Right you are. So why does she make me crazy?
Hmmmmm. OK, I got it! It’s because she’s still yakking about becoming a counselor.
OK, she’s got fourteen kids, no job, and no husband, but
she’s going to counsel others? This is like getting relationship advice from Chris Brown; in other words, a colossally bad idea.
Could it only have been a year ago that we were introduced to Miz Thang and her sad family? Remember how her daddy crowed that a job had just opened up for him in Iraq so he wouldn’t be around to help out?
I feel ya, dude. You have to be pretty desperate to flee sunny California for Iraq voluntarily . But I’m guessing he’d eat sand-and-mustard sandwiches for months rather than hang out in that loony bin.
And poor Octomom’s mother is probably not far behind her husband. She’s probably browsing the help-wanted ads in the Kabul Penny Saver right about now.
Remember, she said she was “upset” when she learned that there were eight buns in the oven and they’d all be living with her in a three-bedroom house.
Upset?
No. Upset is when you do that thing where you’re brushing your teeth and all of a sudden the brush goes up your nostril for no good reason. This is, well, bigger than upset.
Truth is, I struggle with this whole subject a little because it’s tacky to poke fun at people who are, and I will use the clinical psychiatric term here, crazier’n a sprayed roach. It’s the same way I feel guilty looking at those “People of Walmart” photos that you see on the Internet. It’s not cool to make fun of pitiful people. You really think anyone who wasn’t batshit
crazy would walk out of the house in a camouflage mankini and a Confederate flag ball cap to go buy some new furnace filters? No, he’s cray-cray.
The only joy I got out of Octomom’s weird saga was how much it probably pissed off Kate Gosselin. Don’t you know she was freaking out about the possibility that Octoloon was going to inherit her show?
(“At least Jon and I were married. I mean, excuse my language, but criminy!”)
TLC loves freaky-big families. Low TV moment of the TLC week: When Jim Bob Duggar, daddy of nineteen and counting, advised his young bridegroom son that “sex is a lot like Legos.” I was hoping his bride-to-be would get wind of that and run like her clothes were on fire but, no. Like Legos? What does that even mean?
So while I’m uncomfortable snickering at people photographed while looking tacky at Walmart, I’m fine with berating those who set themselves up for publicity.
Which brings me to The Real Housewives of New Jersey. Y’all I had to start watching that show every week because, well, my IQ was just too high. I mean seriously up there. What can I tell you? After watching every episode, I am now officially as dumb as that brown, particle-like stuff you find outside and don’t want to track inside the house. Rhymes with “wirt,” I think.
The housewives are completely diverse
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