My final address of the semester



 Good evening. Tonight, I can report to my loyal Pissyheads and to the world...

Your favorite Pissy blogger has conducted an operation that has eliminated the importance of Fatass, the smelly, hairy wart of the world, and a domestic terrorist who was responsible for the annoyance of thousands of innocent men and women and children on the campus of Big State University.

It was nearly ten months ago that a bright August day was darkened by the sheer mass of his fat gut. The images of his atrocities are seared into our collective memory; massive B cups bouncing through a cloudless August sky, the dining hall staff collapsing to keep up with his insatiable appetite, hairy asscrack billowing up from pants that don't fit, the wreckage of peace and quiet in Generic Residence Hall, where the inaction of useless RAs caused even more heartbreak and destruction.

At yet, we know the worst images are those that were unseen to the world; the broken seats at dining hall tables, children who were forced to run from his hideous stench, parents who would never allow their children to eat that much, nearly six thousand students running from him, leaving a gaping hole in their wake.

On August 28th, 2010, in our time of grief, I pulled it together. I offered my neighbors a hand, and I offered to spend time in the library. I reaffirmed my ties to the students in my major, and my love of fresh air and sunshine. On that day, no matter where we came from, what god we prayed to, or what race or ethnicity we were, we were united as one pissy family. We were also united in our resolve to protect our noses and to bring Fatass and his horrendous smells to justice.

We quickly learned that the horrific stench wasn't from shoes or laundry, but from Fatass, a rotund man with a tiny brain and massive delusions of grandeur, which had openly declared wars on our eyes and nostrils, and was committed to being a gigantic douchebag to innocents on our campus and around the city.

So this blog was made to go to war against Fatass; to protect the innocent, our friends, and our allies. Over the last ten months, thanks to the tireless and heroic work of you, the Pissyheads, we have made great strides in that effort. We've disrupted noxious attacks on noses and strengthened our use of the English language. At Big State University, we have removed any favorable light that Fatass may have been portrayed in. Around the globe, we have worked with our friends and allies to ensure that no man, woman or child ever acts like Fatass, or anyone who is associated with him or his douchebag ways.

Yet, Fatass avoided retribution, and escaped across the hall and into Bitchface's arms. Meanwhile, his fat manboobs continued to sway across the campus, and create annoyance through his affiliates, namely Bitchface. And so, shortly after creating this blog, I directed my Big State University Pissyheads, to make the constant annoyance and hinderance of Fatass their top priority of our war against him. Even as I continued my broader efforts to disrupt, dismantle, and defeat his morale.

Then, last week, after months of painstaking work by myself and my fellow Pissyheads in the Big State University community, I was briefed that the semester was ending and that finals week had begun. It was far from certain, and it took many hours to confirm that the semester was indeed coming to a halt. I met repeatedly with my BSU Pissyheads, as we began studying for finals, and explored the possibility that we had located a problem for Fatass, in the fact that he won't have anybody to push around anymore.

And finally, last week, I determined that I had enough intelligence to take action and authorized an operation to avenge this shitty school year and bring Fatass to justice. This past week, at my direction, the Pissyheads launched an operation against Fatass, and disrupted his sex time with Bess. A small team of Pissyheads carried out the operation with extraordinary courage and capability. No Pissyheads were harmed. The took care to avoid recognition. After door knocking and phone calling, they disengaged any sexual activity and took great relief in knowing he didn't have a chance to receive pleasure.

For over two semesters, Fatass has been the leader and symbol of the word "douchebag", and has continued to plot ways to disrupt our following, our friends, and our allies. The end of the semester marks the most significant achievement to date in our community's effort to defeat douchebaggery. The end of finals does not mark the end of our efforts. There's no doubt that Fatass will continue to not shower. We must, and we will, remain vigilant at home and abroad.

As we do, we must also reaffirm that the Pissyheads are not and never will be at war with overweight people. I've made clear that our war is not against overweight people, because Fatass was not an overweight leader. He was a douchebag that took advantage of overweight people as well. Indeed, his cutoff sleeves offended overweight people in many communities, including our own. So his demise should be welcomed by all who believe in showering and human dignity.

Over these months, I've repeatedly made clear that I would take action within this room if I was able to get away with it. That is what I've done, through farting on his pillow and sweeping dust bunnies under his bed. It is important to note that my counterterrorism efforts within this room helped lead to proper retribution. Indeed, Fatass declared war against this room as well, and completely ruined the bed he slept on.

Tonight, I looked at the mattress and found out the reason why it squeaks so much - because he broke it. It can be agreed that the end of the semester is a good and historic day for both me and the condition of this room, and going forward, it is essential that this matress be replaced.

The Pissyheads did not choose this fight. It came to our shores and started with the senseless lack of respect to me. After nearly ten months of putting up with him, struggling, and sacrificing, we know well the cost of a douchebag roommate. The actions of this asshole weigh on me every time I, as author, have to write a blog about how he offended someone that wasn't me, or looking into the eyes of someone he's verbally or physically abused. So Pissyheads and BSU students understand the costs of this douchebag.

Yet, as a community, we will never tolerate our pursuit of happiness being threatened, nor stand idly by when our people have been offended. We will be relentless in defense of the innocent, and our friends and allies. We will be true to the values that make us who we are. And on nights like this one, we can say to those students that forcibly lost their peace of mind to Fatass's terror, justice has been done.

Tonight, we give thanks to the professor that failed Fatass. The Pissyheads do not see her work or know her name, but tonight, she feels the satisfaction of her grading policy at work and the result of Fatass not being able to graduate.

We give thanks to the students that didn't tolerate his bullshit. They exemplify the the professionalism, patriotism, and unparalleled courage of those who will go far in the world, and they are part of a generation that has born the heaviest share of the burden since he has come to Big State University.

Finally, let me say to those offended by the sight, smell, and bullying of Fatass, that we have never forgotten your feelings, nor wavered in our commitment to see that we do whatever it takes to prevent another attack on innocent people. And tonight, let us think back to the sense of unity that prevailed when you first read this blog. I know that it has, at times, frayed.

Yet, tonight's achievement is a testament to the greatness of our cause and the determination of the Pissyheads. The cause of securing or campus is not complete, but tonight we are once again reminded that Pissyheads can do whatever we set our minds to. That is the story of our history. Whether it's the pursuit of lame jokes or the struggle for getting his fat ass out the door, our commitment to standing up for our values, or our sacrifices to make the world a better place, let us remember that we can do these things, not just because of wealth or power, but because of who we are - one community, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.

Thank you. May the summer sun shine down upon you, and may the summer sun shine down on the Pissyheads across the world.

Loosely based on Presidential Address, May 1, 2011.

Fatass fails a class in record time

How Fatass avoids studying.

And the results are in from Fatass's test. Thanks to my friend in the same class that Fatass is failing, I am quite pleased to report that Fatass not only finished the test first in his class, but also that his professor shook her head in disappointment when she saw  his retarded answers. Now he has neither the means to graduate nor the money to come back to complete the degree. Say hello to minimum wage!

While I should probably feel bad about it, I instead feel a strange sense of justice in the fact that this colossal douchebag will not be allowed to have any sort of degree beyond a high school diploma. So now he's talking to Bess on the phone and getting all pissy at her for whatever reason. Then he says, "I have you all to myself on Friday, so I may have to punish you." I vomited in my mouth.

But today was cleaning day for me. While Fatass was gone, I was able to take down all my posters and pack some of the stuff that I don't need over the next two days. I then broke out the broom and swept up my side of the room. Funny thing though: those massive dustbunnies just completely coincidentally seemed to gravitate to the area under his bed. I think it may have to do with his stench.

So let's see... I'm looking around me... all I have to do is pack up my floor lamp and my laptop, take my sheets and pillows out, and bring my TV and fridge back into the car. Oh, and I also have a personal goal of not saying anything to Fatass on the way out, otherwise he may get bombarded with words he can't comprehend about how awful he is.

After today, two days until I'm fucking out of here and I never have to see his hairy bitchtits ever again. But for now, he's laying facing me and of course his shirt is off, so I get to see just how far they sag down his fat body. Fantastic.

Finals Week Bitching: Day 1 of 4



Chris Hansen:
Fatass's mortal enemy
and worst nightmare.

 So it is officially that time. It's finals week, which means that I'm in an intense state of studying. However, I think that it's more than appropriate to update all of you on the dumb shit my roommate does. Shall we start with when he came back last night? After all, that's when all the bullshit started again.

Well, it first started with him closing the blinds and glaring at me, because in his mind, it's a sin and a felony that I don't fear The Red Truck. So you knwo what I did today after I got back from my final? That's right, the blinds are open again. Funny thing is that there really is a red truck out there. I kinda want Fatass to see so that he'll start panicking, but I don't want to deal with the smell of him shitting himself.

Back to last night... I'm sitting at my computer reading over some notes and watching an episode of "The Office" on my computer as background noise. I hear Fatass bang his hand into the door as he enters the code, which makes me snicker. He lumbers into the room and guess who's in his wake? That's right, it's Bitchface! Obviously you've seen that he has no problem stepping over lines. Habitually. He's a habitual line-stepper (thanks Charlie Murphy). So why would last night be any different? Well, for one, I put a kabosh on that bullshit right away. I said, "Whoa now. I'm studying here."

"Oh, it's ok. We're just going to eat and then she's going to leave... if that's okay with you."

Oh yeah, sure. How about I knock all your teeth out so you can eat through a straw from now on, you fucking prick? How about this. How about for once in your miserable life, you decide to be somewhat respectful of someone else's need to study and get out.

I mean, he walks around this room like he owns the place, which is pretty pathetic. He owns this room which is smaller than my room at home and it's like he's the king of it. Well, unfortunately the world has news for him: just because you're a fat fuck does not mean that you're entitled to everything on earth. Being a big man does not mean that you've got a big personality. Honestly, he's nothing but a bitchtit swinging bully who needs to grow up. If it was anyone else, they would have punched the kid in the face. I, however, have more enjoyable ways of tormenting his soul... like leaving a little sticky note on his pillow with the link to my blog when all is said and done.

Therefore, it's time for an open letter!

Dear Fatass,

I HATE EVERYTHING ABOUT YOUR MALODOROUS PATHETIC LIFE.

Cordially,
Pissy

P.S.: Chris Hansen called. He wants you to have a seat over there.

My typical weekend

The preferred sex pose
of Fatass and Bess.

It's a miracle. It's my last weekend up here at Big State U for the semester, and it's my last weekend of putting up with the fat fuck I happen to share a living space with. In that spirit, it's about time to reveal what Pissy's Average Weekend is like.

On Friday, I get up after Fatass so that I can change into my towel in my room and then go take a shower. I then go to work for a couple of hours, then have an hour break, and then to class and then work again.

And then, I'm forced to return to the place that I hate the most - my room. Fatass is usually sitting on the floor, resting his bulbous head against the side of my bed while playing video games, and Bitchface is usually sitting down right next to him, cuddling up to his fat and reading her book. This weekend was no different. I step over them, I check my email, I ignore them.

Eventually, Fatass leaves for wherever the hell he goes to meet Bess. The first thing I do at that moment is open the blinds. He may fear The Red Car, but I have no such paranoia, and I happen to like natural light, no matter what Ma Pissy thinks.

I then unplug my headphones, because those are only used when he's in the room so I can ignore him. I turn the TV up, I settle down at my desk and then do whatever I wish.

On Saturday, he and Bess return to the room while I'm asleep for some unknown reason. She scoffs because I'm sleeping and he sets his bag on his bed - you know, things that can wait until 11:30 when I typically wake up on weekends.

I usually go to work, and they come back at some point so they can get to fucking. Fortunately, because I'm at work, I don't have to deal with that shit. I get back from work later on at night, and they're typically off doing whatever at Bess's grandma's house.

On Sunday, it's the exact same thing. I go to work, they come back to fuck and leave, and then I get back and have to deal with the raw stink of their hideous bodies.

This weekend, however, is different. Because of finals week, I'm not working this weekend. I have studying that I need to do, so I'm going to be holed up with books and notes all weekend. Fatass is pissed about it because he doesn't get a chance to fuck. But that's okay! He's found a way around that, just like everything!

Last night, as he talked to Bess, he said, "Oh, it's okay. Pissy gave us the room for an hour."

No I fucking didn't, and I called him on it. He gets off the phone and tells me it's only an hour, and he'd appreciate any consideration I could give him. I chuckled a little and said whatever.

So at some point, they're going to fuck for an hour, while I've gotten next to zero this entire damn year (sorry to friends who don't need to know that about me, but I'm just sayin'). I mean, they can't go six goddamn days? That's a pretty big fucking issue. Here's a novel idea - give yourself the ol' low five for a fucking weekend and get back to your normal schedule next weekend.

So here's my plan for when they come back. Contrary to Fatass's belief, I've got friends up here. I'm going to use these friends. All Big State University friends that read this blog, kindly stop by the room on my cue and knock on his door to disrupt their shit. If they get an hour, they're going to have the most hellish hour in the history of attempted fucking. I will do my part and call in a quiet hours violation on their cowfucking. I'll kindly explain to the RA on duty that I reluctantly agreed to their use of the room for an hour, but my attempts at studying in the lounge are being hindered by their disgusting sex noises. Kharmaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!

I'm sick and tired of his complete lack of respect for me that he tries to play off as being nice. As one of my favorite professors up here says, "You can't bullshit a bullshitter." And despite being smacked down at every chance, he still tries and tries and tries.

So now I'm in a situation where I need to go out with a bang. I need to do something to show him that I hate every single ounce of him while being creative. The thought of the note with the blog link seems to simple and could result in unwanted hate mail that I'd be too lazy to delete, so I don't know. Any thoughts from you all?

Skipping classes all over the place

Fatass hunched over his chair
while he plays video games.

LOL = laugh out loud
LMAO = laugh my ass off
LMFAO = laugh my fucking ass off
LFO = one hit wonder / laughing, fucking off

Fatass is doing the latter. It's 2pm and it's time for Fatass to go to the class he's doing miserably in. This is the same class where he turned in his exam after 5 minutes and the professor just shook her head. Fatass is so fucked that he'll have to come back for another semester and guess what? It's not going to be with me. Fucking schmuck.

I mean, it's really not that difficult of a concept to grasp. You have a class you need in order to graduate? YOU GO TO CLASS. But instead, Fatass is just playing video game games. Just when you think he couldn't get any more useless, he goes and finds a way.

Pa Pissy has a term for guys like that - "Shit Sweepers", because all they'll ever do with their pitiful, meaningless lives is sweep shit off the street. Did I mention Pa can be an old man sometimes and harken back to a day where horse-drawn carriage was a primary mode of transport?

When I see Fatass, I also think of K-Star's great-uncle that did the exact same thing. Uncle Lazy was committed to the local hospital in their permanent care ward because all he wanted to do was absolutely nothing. I can see Fatass doing this a year from now, not 50 years down the road like Uncle Lazy. In the end, Uncle Lazy had a catheter, a colostomy bag, and was okay living like that. He died a couple of weeks ago.

I can see Fatass walking down the same road as Uncle Lazy, but he won't be nearly as quotable or nearly as interesting as Uncle Lazy. And you know why? Because Fatass is a no-good lousy douchebag that doesn't know the concepts of common courtesy or respect for others. He should have died before Uncle Lazy. If that were the case, a bigger waste of life would have been ridded from this planet.

How to have an easy finals week

Fatass apparently doesn't
like getting caught in a lie.

Solution: STOP LYING!

So, as the title suggests, you're probably wondering what you can do to have an easy finals week. It's really quite simple. For the men, shave your head so you look like a pedophile, eat tubs of lard until you have tits bigger than other members of your family, and wear cutoff sleeves and fart constantly. For the ladies, fall in love with that.

Seriously, Fatass has done nothing but play video games every day this week, so when normal people are studying (as well as the other people in his class), Fatass feels that he's above the laws of education and will just fuck around.

And then they're his little lapdog, Bitchface. She's currently laying down... on his effing bed. I must admit, it's nice that they've both put their heads down on the pillow I've farted on, but this is just beyond disturbing. She's just laying there, curled up in a ball, and reading. Must be that she subscribes to the Fatass Don't Give A Fuck Finals Filosophy. Yes, it's spelled wrong because Fatass doesn't know how to spell.

Breaking it down further... I'm trying to get my fucking work done. Fatass, who said he's going to "be weally weally qwiet..." in that fucking goofy 5 year old patronizing voice that makes me want to take a kendo stick to his fat face, is now talking exceptionally loudly on the phone to Bess while playing video games. Bitchface is here as well, laying down on Fatass's bead and reading some piece of shit novel.

I failed to mention that Fatass is only narrating his video game playing to Bess. So it's not like it's stuff that matters. It's just bullshit on top of bullshit that should result in him being stabbed in the eye. And now he's fucking lying to Bess again by saying that Bitchface was over earlier but isn't here anymore. I've had enough of this shit.

So yeah, I called him on it, State of the Union style. He goes, "Yeah, she left an hour ago."

In an effort to correct him, I helpfully chimed in, saying loud enough to be picked up by the phone, "YOU LIE."

Fatass merely glared at me as if he has the balls to do something about it. If I wasn't busy writing this blog, I probably would have given him the ol' double middle fingers. Besides, fuck it. He knows he's lying and I've only got a week left.

Ah, and now they're saying "I loveums you", so it must be all good with Bess that Fatass lied to her. I'd feel bad for her if she wasn't so much of a conceited bitch. So now they're off the phone and he's just glaring at me. I, however, am doing what I do best and ignore him as much as you can ignore someone that takes up the entire goddamn room. He just snorted or something and turned back to his video game. Yeah, you run away.

But yeah, I'm getting sick of all this stupid bullshit. It must be lovely that they don't have a care in the world about finals week, but you know what? I FUCKING DO. And soon enough, they're not going to have a job in the world. Soon enough, it will no longer be my problem. Only one more week to go. Give me strength...

So... what the fuck?

My room when Fatass is here.

Apparently it's now cool for anyone and everyone to come over to my room on the GOD DAMN WEEK BEFORE FINALS. His junkie brother is now in the room just standing around and talking to Fatass, and of course, Bitchface is here. Why wouldn't she be?

So she begins by saying, "I wouldn't be over here if it weren't for my suitemates being bitches." Oh I'm sorry, but you know what? That's not my fucking problem. If you have problems with your suitemates, you talk to the RA or do what I do and make an angry, passive-aggressive blog. But you do NOT come to other people's rooms on the week before finals and be obnoxiously loud and play video games!

Seriously, it's like I live in a world where respect and courtesy have never even been heard of. But seriously. What. The. Fuck. They're talking at obnoxiously loud volume about a fucking flashlight. I guess we haven't comprehended the concept of "light" around here. And now they go ahead and talk trash about the same kid again. I guess they need to compensate for their lack of dicks by continuing to make idle threats.

Yup, and we're still being obnoxious douchebags, and now my urge to kill is rising. Seriously, no goddamn courtesy. And you wonder why they got kicked out of Bitchface's suite. Fuck. This. Shit.

To my Cousin, the Fed,

Get your ass up here. NOW. Gun is preferred but not required.

Thanks,
Pissy

I am done with this shit.

And you think I'm bad

Well, if you think that my ramblings about Fatass's demise are creepy and violent, you would love to hear the pillow talk he's giving to Bess right now.

He's talking about how he would gleefully drown someone in the lake and check up on them once in a while to make sure they're dead, or hell, just go underwater and slit their throat. Boy, if that don't spell love, I don't know what does.

I am eenveen-cee-bull, Part II

Youuuuuuu betcha!
But in his mind, Fatass is Brad Pitt.

As you know from my most recent grumblings, finals week is coming up on us. This is the last week of classes and next week is finals. Good times. However, it appears that Fatass is so shockingly amazing at everything forever that he doesn't need to study at all.

As I've said before, my covert ops personnel in his classes with him have all said that there is no possible way that he can pass certain classes, and yet here he is living in this delusional dream world where he's skipping classes and playing video games. As someone who USED to do that, it fucking pisses me off that a fat waste of space is doing something better than I ever could. Yeah, I'm pretty competitive.

So today I come back from shooting one of my final productions and there's Fatass buttonmashing and saying "god fucking dammit" twenty billion times, completely ignoring the fact that he has class. As I walk past, he unleashes a toxic bomb that makes me want to take a lead pipe to his temples.

So then I leave again, because I have, you know, CLASSES TO GO TO. When I come back, he's gone. Probably means that Bitchface's roommate was gone and the gettin' was good. Whatever. So I start to do some work on another project, praying that he just stays away as long as possible... two seconds after I think about it?

Here he comes, sloshing his beer gut into the doorframe. I'm frankly amazed that he can still get into the room, but he made it in alright. "Oh, hey bud... is it cool if I play video games? That is, if I'm not distracting you from your work..."

Listen, you bulbous piece of monkey shit, you and I both know goddamn well that the only reason you're asking it is because you want to be able to say you asked, and then you go and do it anyway. We've established this pattern before, so why don't you save the flapping of your lips for the cock you're going to suck later on, k?

So I mutter something about going to dinner and leave, because the more time I have away from his fat body, the better. 10 fucking days.

I get back into my room, and there he is, but the only change is that he's decided to once again go topless, picking the scabs off his fat back while mashing buttons with the other hand, then wiping the scabs off on the bottom of his seat. Man, I'd hate to be the kid living here next semester... well, I'd hate to be the kid living on his side of the room, that is.

So let me paint this mag-fucking-nificent picture for you: here we have a bright sunny day, but the blinds are down and drawn because of Fatass's inane paranoid fear of The Red Truck. My light, which was on before I left for dinner, is now off, further proving his disrespect for my stuff. I'm laying on my bed and typing. Fatass is sitting on a chair with the rolls falling from either side of it, and I fear that it might give at any second. His fat fucking body is... well, if I can make up a word here, it's "shoobulling". Just say that word quickly and I think you'll have the right idea. It's the kind of noise that comes from excess fat being jostled around.

And that's not even the best part! He's still picking at his scabs, which means that he now has bleeding open sores all over his hairy back. I forgot to mention the grotesque amount of monkey hair he has there. His bitchtits are blowing in the breeze... well they would if the window was open. Apparently The Red Truck can attack him from open windows. His asscrack is hanging out from his jeans despite the use of a belt, and his creepy ass haircut makes him look like someone Chris Hansen would like to have a seat over there. He's staring mindlessly through broken glasses at a screen that's less than 8 inches from his face and continues to mash buttons, saying "god fucking dammit" every 15 seconds or so.

And all the while, there are final projects and papers to do and presentations to ready for, but fuck that! He's een-veen-cee-bull. He can do whatever he wants, finish a test in 5 minutes by scribbling god only knows what onto the paper, and then leave. I'm going to laugh when I hear that he fucked up his last chance at passing college and getting a degree. Maybe it'll take him down a fucking peg or two.

But in the meantime, here's hoping this pathetic fat waste of life just keels over from a heart attack.

Fat people noises and summer plans

Fatass when he takes his shirt off...
If only he were this entertaining.

I enjoy sleeping in when I get the chance. Today, I slept in until 12:30 because I don't go into work until 5pm. Awesome. But then, at 12:22 on a Sunday where Fatass said that he wouldn't be bugging me, comes lumbering in with Bess, apparently thinking they were going to get lucky. Now, it woke me up when he mashed his fat fingers into the door code, but I just turned over, feigning sleep. I could hear Bess let out a loud sigh, which confirms that Fatass's cock is so small that she needs to have it every waking minute so that she can pretend something is there.

So she storms out of the room while Fatass puts on deodorant and Bod fragrance, which is apparently his Sunday shower. The sounds that this fat douche makes just by standing there is freaking amazing. Not only does he breathe heavily out of his mouth, but he also feels the need to lay down on his bed for all of 10 seconds, which boggles my mind. Apparently his memory span is so short that he couldn't remember his girlfriend storming out of the room about 2 minutes prior. So he does that, then moves over to his phone to check the messages, which is a whole bunch of loud beeps, and then lets out a burp and fart. Lovely. And then he leaves. What. The. Fuck. I'm sure they'll be back at 4 and be disappointed to see that I'm still here, so why couldn't this just wait until then? It's because they're both whiny little teenage uglybitches. That's why.

So with the semester winding down (only a week and a half left), you may be wondering what my plans are for the blog, especially since I won't be rooming with Fatass in the fall. Well, I figured I would just use this as a general rant blog over the summer, talking about work and anything else that annoys the hell out of me. In the fall, I'll be back with rants about school, and if it's another douchebag roommate, there will be plenty more blogfodder.

So there's no need to worry. Pissy will be around for a while. Happy Mother's Day to Ma Pissy, by the way.

As for Fatass's mother? She deserves to be slapped for raising her kid to be such a douche.

Cinco de Asshole

Fatass dressing up in a
highly offensive holiday costume.

Today, around college campuses everywhere, people are getting drunk in honor of the independence of a country we don't give a damn about and are usually very offensive to every other day of the year. And you know what? I'm not a holier-than-thou prick. I'm just as bad as every other American douche on Cinco de Mayo. The difference is that I acknowledge it. Though it's very tough to have fun on Cinco de Mayo when you're not able to drink alcohol.

But you're not here to read about me, are you? Nah, didn't think so. Time for more of the fat asshole!

Today, Fatass decided that he'd just not go to his 8am class, because he's doing ooooooh so grand in all his classes. He's een-veen-cee-bull, remember? He can just unleash one of his magical farts and all will be right in the world. How wonderful it must be to be as jaded as he. If I didn't hate him with every fiber of my being, I'd fear for him in the real world, but at this point, I hope the real world not only squashes him like a bug, but I also hope that the real world is one of those cruel kids that dismembers the bug, leaving no semblance of it whatsoever, just random bugparts.

Aaaaaaaaaaanywho... I'm back from class today, and after about 5 minutes of solitude, what happens? Fatass comes lumbering in, with Bitchface in tow. Seriously, what the fuck. This is three god damn days in a row, and you're not getting any when I'm in the room! Stop bringing her over!

So they come back, he takes off his coat, starts trashing on someone and says, "oh yeah, after being pinned against the wall four times, I'd avoid me too," sprays more of his Bod fragrance, and leaves.

Let's make this absolutely clear. I would not put up with him pinning ME against the wall to begin with. If he gets PMS and starts to get violent with me like he does with everyone else in his miserable life, he can bet his bottom dollar that I will not play fair.

See, I'm all for fighting by the rules and respect and all that, but again, respect is earned. If I am pinned against the wall, I will kick him in the balls until they're lodged so far in his body that they become ovaries. After he's doubled over in pain, I will stomp his worthless head into the floor until it gets through his thick skull that he picked the wrong guy to fuck with. But oops, it was all self-defense! He came at me!

I am absolutely sick of this bullshit, and now that finals are coming up, it's stressing me out even more. Maybe he could make the world a better place and just get hit by a car already. But that's highly doubtful, because my luck sucks.

DISCLAIMER: The above statements were meant as a coping mechanism and should not be misconstrued as threats of actual violence. Just thought I'd throw that out there, because yes, I am a very angry fellow.

Take your bitching to someone who gives a damn

Fatass (over)reacting to my
legitimate need to do homework today.
Yes, he does look like this all the time.

Fatass officially crossed the line today. I came back from work and needed to do a gigantic heap of homework, all of which needed to be done on my laptop, because that's generally the way of things these days, even if Fatass hasn't picked up on it yet.

So anyway, I have to do work and Fatass and Bitchface are, of course, sitting on his bed doing nothing in particular, which makes me think they've been making out. I'm probably not that far off, either. So I sit down and we do the usual "how was your day" bullshit that I just zone out during.

Then I start typing up my paper because that's what normal college students do. He looks at me and then at my computer screen and then back at me.

"So... you doing homework?"

Nope, I'm just writing essays about the 2008 recession for my health. So he groans and tells Bitchface that they're going to go to the lounge, because he knows better than to ask me if she can stay while I'm doing work. I've already laid down the law about that once this past fall.

So he comes rolling back into the room about 10 minutes later and I'm still typing away, but this time I have the TV on. I find that if I have background noise going, I'm able to relax a little more and get my work done. Fatass just glares at the screen and then back at me.

"How's the homework coming?"

Not bad at all, you pretentious dicklicking fuck. It doesn't, has never, and will never ever in a hundred billion years and beyond matter what you think. And that just doesn't go for me either, you fat as hell waste of space. Not a single soul will give a damn about what you think for the rest of your pathetic, meaningless existence. You know why? Because respect isn't given. It's earned. And you haven't earned jacksquat. So you can take your bitchtits, your two annoying jaded bitches, and your horrendous smells right to the streets, because that's the only place that will ever be home to you.

So then I go to my group meeting, and I come back, and there are Fatass and Bitchface again, both of them glaring at me. I considered giving them the double bird, but decided it'd piss them off more for me to just get back to work. I start typing away, and the massive putrid wart goes on and calls one of the random people in his life that barely tolerate him. He gabs away for some stupid thing for about 10 minutes, trying to get under my skin, periodically looking over at my screen.

I've now realized that he has piss poor vision because I was typing nothing but insults at him in a Word document the whole time. So finally he runs out of shit to say, or, more likely, he's pushed off the phone by whoever he was talking to, groans, and then him and Bitchface leave again.

K-Star says that Fatass is a boil on the ass of humanity. I pretty much agree, but add "hairy" and "smelly" to the metaphor. K-Star has also realized, through Skype being able to pick up all audio from the room, that Fatass makes stereotypical fat man sounds and feels bad that I have to live with that. Two more weeks...

So now I'm settled in for the night, and Fatass asks when I have class tomorrow. What the hell? I mean, not only has it been over three months, but even still, why should I even tell you? Maybe if you started caring about your own classes rather than mine, you wouldn't have to panic about all your classes in the next 2 weeks.

Oh, by the way, I spoke with one of your classmates after you finished your exam in 5 minutes the other day. The teacher took one look at it and shook her head.

As one final side note, Fatass told Bess the other night that it is impossible to surprise him. More being een-veen-cee-bull. It is apparently "literally impossible" to surprise Fatass. I got two words for you. Surprise, motherfucker.

Hmmm... Open letter or video link?

Well, since Tuesday is the day where Fatass is off picking his nose in places that are nowhere near my room, I don't have much in terms of blog fodder today. After going back and forth on the options of posting a video or an open letter in place of a posting today, I've decided... both. Read in your best "dramatic reading" voice.

Dear Bess and Bitchface,

Next week is the week before finals, which, for a broadcasting major, is basically finals week. While you will be studying for tests, I will be completing my projects and working my ass off, so that when finals week DOES arrive, I will be able to lounge back, play video games, drink Diet Mountain Dew, and laugh at your misery. Yes, I know I'm awesome.

However, if you so much as have the tiniest inkling of an idea that it's okay to come over to my room next week, you are sorely mistaken. I have been nice all god damn year and have not kicked you out when you have deserved it a million times over. You show up at my door and I'm slamming it in your face. If Fatass is there when I slam the door, I will make sure it breaks his teeth.

Get your fucking, your annoying laughter, your snooty attitudes, and your disgustingly low standards out of my grill and there will be no problems. Party it up now while you still can, but again, you're not doing it here. I know Bess doesn't understand because she's still, you know, in HIGH SCHOOL, but Bitchface, you should know better than to mess with someone during finals.

To put it in easy words for your simple brains to process, here it is: DO. NOT. SHOW. UP. TO. MY. ROOM. I don't care if you need stress relief, a break from studying, a break from whatever. You don't have to go home, but if you come here, I will flip shit.

Thank you.

Go jump off a cliff and die,
Pissy


And now for our video portion...

Enjoy. Complete blog likely to follow tomorrow.

Ibee Pissy's Day Off

Fatass sprinting so that he
can be first to my room and
engage in awkward conversations.

He lost.

It's a 2nd Day of May Miracle: Fatass is wearing a shirt that he decided to keep the sleeves attached to! That means no more rolling waves of fat slithering every time he makes any sort of movement... well at least for today.

Today started out well enough. I made it to my class JUST on time (I was actually running to class out of fear of being late, then hearing my professor call out, "no need to run, I'm behind you."). I had a great lab session where I absolutely aced it, and then decided to go to lunch before my next class. As I was relaxing and eating, I spotted it.

Like a scene in a horror film where the murderer just slowly appears out of nowhere, Fatass's rolls became visible at the "take-out" line, which was about 50 feet away from me. I panicked and dropped some tomato sauce on my shorts. Dammit. I could feel his cold, beady eyes staring at me, doing anything to get my attention. I saw him waving, but I diverted my attention to a handy flyer on the table. Finally, the lady behind the counter was forced to work overtime to feed his fat self, so I made a break for it. As I stood up, I looked at my tomato sauce-stained pants. Fuck.

I look over at the take-out line, seeing that the slop is being loaded a mile high in his box. I had seconds to react. I needed to change my shorts, but he was headed back to the room too. I don't want to see him, and I'm not changing my shorts in the bathroom because I should be able to change my goddamn shorts in my own goddamn room. Aaaaaaaaand cue the music:

And oh, the yelling between the mother and daughter? Yeah, that's about the sound Bitchface makes on a daily basis.

I raced back to Generic Residence Hall, literally sprinting down the hallways. I climbed the three sets of stairs and made it to my room. I punched in the code, quickly looked to my left and right, and got inside, quickly shutting the door. Part one accomplished.

I quickly changed into my shorts without any signs of Fatass. I gathered my things and walked out the door, turning away and making my way down the hall. I had made it!

...

"Well hello there."

Fuck.

"I noticed something weird going on with your computer monitor. It flickers colors."

"Yeah, I know."

...

What the fuck are you doing looking at my computer monitor anyway? It's none of your god damn fucking business! I mean, there's a possibility that he just noticed it while he was getting his fat ass out of bed, but I'm a very paranoid kinda guy, so I'm willing to bet that he started trying to log into my laptop. Good thing I lock it before leaving and can guaran-damn-tee that he doesn't know my password.

So now classes are over for the day and I'm back from dinner. Fatass is talking to Bess on the phone with his shirt lifted up so that his gut can get some fresh air. So far, they've been talking for about 15 minutes (that I'm aware of), and there haven't been any gems yet.

Oh here we go. "The likelihood of you getting a job is less than me." Wow, way to be a fuck. Too bad you can't get a job because you're a psychopath lazyass bastard who can do nothing but whine and complain about every little thing.

And with that, I want to punch him in the mouth, so I'm out.

More proof that Fatass needs to be castrated

The Do-It-Yourself cutoff sleeve shirt,
Fatass's garment of choice.

First off, let me begin this post by reminding everyone of what this blog isn't, so even though I am an American, I do not feel the need to discuss the death of any well-known terrorist, unless it's Fatass. The only thing I ask as a result of the day's news is for my dear Cousin the Fed to call for an end to full-cavity searches.

Anyway, back to the task at hand, which is why you read this blog - Fatass continually doing things to cement his place as a candidate for death via rectal trauma.

After work today, I decided to drive across the street from the store to the mall, because I needed some shorts. I had a relatively good time, despite the fact that it was clothes shopping. I browsed the stores at my own pace, gave the guy at Lids a history lesson about the Brooklyn Dodgers baseball cap (thanks Uni Watch!), and browsed for some video games.

However, my day was immediately ruined when I was walking out of the store. Fatass and Bess were walking in the opposite direction. Bess spotted me and thrusted her nose in the air like the self-righteous twat she is, but Fatass does his bullshit of staring at me until I acknowledge him. It's awkward. It's creepy. It's going to get him punched in his fat mouth if he does it to the wrong person. So I wave and quickly motor out of the mall.

The rest of the day goes by, and I figure it's going to be a Fatass free day, and it was for the most part, but as I walk to get some food, I'm talking on the phone to K-Star and pass through one of the lines. I give them the uninterested nod that shows I'm on the phone while they both awkwardly stare at me as I pass. As I walk by, I hear Fatass remark loudly, "Wowwwwww."

Listen, bitch. Not only am I not obliged to respond to any god damn utterance you make as if I'm hanging on to every syllable with rapt attention, but I am not obliged to show you any common courtesy. Lord knows you haven't shown ME any. And as for that, I WAS ON THE PHONE. I know cell phones are too much of a new fangled technology for you to comprehend, but when I'm talking into the magicy box against my ear, it means that I am talking to someone else. The someone else I was talking to you is more important to me than you will ever be to anyone else in the entire god damn world, so get down off your high horse and eat some shit and die.

I've told K-Star that I'm going to start farting on Fatass's pillow whenever he's not here. After tonight, I'm thinking that's the perfect revenge for not only his constant smell of ass, but his asshole behavior. I figure if ass is what comes out of him, ass can go into him as well. You get what you give, douche.

So you want to be a samurai...

Fatass's fantasy job/ LARP char.
I think Bess might be the horse. 

As promised last night, here is the anticipated blog post about Fatass's incomprehensible desire to be a samurai warrior or something. I have no idea where he conceived this idea, but it was likely the result of an anime and alcohol binge and he must have thought that his drunk idea was a good'n.

Let my punch holes into Fatass's hopes and dreams right from the get-go. Samurai were the warrior nobles of pre-industrial Japan. Not only has that ship sailed YEARS ago, but he's... well... he sure ain't noble.

Another problem here - samurai also are heavily influenced by Buddhism and Zen, which promote non-violence and reincarnation, so it's kind of pointless to go making threats about taking someone's life, like Fatass does at least once a week. So that's basically what being a samurai is about and Fatass has the problem of not having any sort of crucial samurai characteristics.

All he's running on is delusions of grandeur. He decided this semester to get a tattoo on his arm of what he thinks is the Japanese symbol for "honor" or something. However, he has based that on a poster he bought for $6.99 at Wal-Mart. Yikes. And the tattoo is this microscopic little thing that makes it look like a small woodland creature took a dump on his arm. Who knows, maybe one did! Couldn't make him smell any worse!

I have never seen him in samurai garb (probably because he can't afford it) and I have never seen him try to establish a sense of inner peace required to be a true samurai (probably because he can't comprehend it). The "honor" tattoo goes to show the greatest problem in his miserable life - he's nothing but a tool.

Now he's getting a tattoo, yeah,

He's getting ink done.

He asks for a 13,

But they drew a 31.

Friends say he's trying to hard,

and he's not quite hip,

But in his own mind, he's the,

He's the dopest trip.

Video can be found below, because I'm awesome and know how to provide you links that let you flash back to years past: 

But hey, as the song suggests, everything he lacks, he makes up in denial. I shudder to think of his self-image. Perhaps he sees himself as this svelte samurai that's oh so honorable, but all I see is a smelly bitch that doesn't know aristocracy from his asshole.