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.

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.

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.

Phone Phun, Part III

So Fatass is now stuffing his face with food and asking me about wrestling, and I'm pretty much gritting my teeth as he asks me who Snooki is. Seriously, I fucking hate Jersey Shore, but I know who Snooki is. Currently, he's wearing a sleeveless t-shirt despite the fact it was only 28 degrees out today, and his gut is hanging over the bottom. He buzz cut his hair over break, so now he looks even more like a murderer or pedophile, as I've mentioned previously.

So how was my spring break? Well it started pretty shitty. I had to get my car to an auto parts store to get some oil after my check oil light came on. Turns out I have a cracked head gasket and need to shell out a thousand dollars for the repair. Fan-fucking-tastic.

But on a positive note, I was able to finally see K-Star. We weren't able to do EVERYTHING we wanted, but it was definitely good to see her and unwind. I also got to see the Funkmaster and a few other friends. Ma and Pa Pissy were in Florida for most of the week, so I had the house to myself for a few days, and then I got to spend some quality family time.

Now he's talking about how the Mythbusters did an experiment with a pool of syrup. Again, I like Mythbusters, but I don't give a shit about his awkward attempts at conversation with me. And now Bess is calling, so let's tune in...

... Well, we would tune in, except Fatass realized that he had to go to the bathroom. Now, I'm all for talking to loved ones while on the can. Sometimes I even tell K-Star when I'm sitting on the throne, just so she doesn't question the odd echo from my end of the phone. But in an area where 15 other guys may need to go into the bathroom? I've got news for you, pal. WE DON'T CARE ABOUT YOU OR YOUR PATHETIC LIFE.

Well, I think he may have died in there while taking a shit, so whatever. I'm gonna take off for now, but I'll be sure to post again once he says something stupid. See you all when he gets back.

Sure, call anytime

Durrr wut's this magicy thang
I can hear muh freeyinds in?

So it's 12:24am and Fatass receives a phone call. If you think it's Bess, you're wrong. It's the other blind, deaf and dumb girl that gets a jolly off his fat stank.

It appears, from their conversation, that I'm not the only one that thinks Fatass and Bitchface are fucking. Maybe that should tell them something. That if they aren't fucking... yup. Just said, "I love you to death, Bitchface." Well, not Bitchface, but her actual name. Still, why is Bess still with this fuck?

He's blathering on like an idiot about how college is all drama and he's been here too long and he's seen so many things and knows about the shallow-minded and uninformed and how their narrow views of life are like a cancer. UH... HELLO???????? Do you even listen to the shit seeping from your mouth? Maybe if you spent a little less time sucking on your own tits and actually did something to benefit society rather than waste space with your fat fucking body and douchebag attitude, you'd actually amount to something decent that might do something besides suck on the state tit for the rest of your life.

Ah, now he's saying that Bitchface can call at any time, and that I may not like it, but whatever.
I can deal with an upset roommate. It's a little easier." Yeah,  you know what else is easy? Ripping out every single greasy hair follicle on your fucking bulbous head with my bare hands to make you look like the prick you are. Suck on that you fucking twat.

So you know what I'm going to do tomorrow night? I'm going to fucking unplug the phone from the jack right after he goes to sleep. Fuck you, you piece of redneck shit. Thank fucking Christ that I'm leaving for spring break in two days, otherwise Fatass might have the debilitating condition of a towel rack going through his tits.

Seriously, at this point, I'm only living with the nasty smelling fat fuck because it's a challenge. I think of myself like the presenters on Top Gear that have to brave the Amazon rain forest or the African salt plains or something, except this is much more foul smelling and with a much worse attitude.

So tomorrow is Ash Wednesday for those in the Christian faith, and I'm taking advantage of that to cut class and be like down on my knees day and night scoring points for the afterlife. If Fatass even thinks about waking me up like a douche, I may just stab him in the eye. Music break!!!

Oh! Now here we go again with the een-veen-cee-bull shit! Still talking about how he threw boots into a bathroom and got a slap on the wrist. And now he's saying that some chick is ugly and how if her feet are any uglier than her face or some stupid thing. Again, have you taken a look in the mirror lately? You aren't exactly Prince Charming there, fuckhead. Hell, you aren't even halfway decent looking. All I see is a bulbousy fuck. No, I take that back, Fatass. When I see you, I see a zit that's just dying to be popped.

"After this bullshit, they should go die. Just go get eaten by a bear." Yeah, I think you should too. Now he's telling Bitchface to have one of her friends Facebook me. I'm glad he sees that I don't desire to be any sort of friend to him and doesn't even try. "Stupid fucking abusive whore." Have you listened to ANYTHING you've goddamn said in the past 50 minutes?

(need-to-take-a-shit fart)

Now he's talking about how one day, someone's attitude is going to get them in trouble. Hey Fatass! I see a red truck! Time to reap what you sow, motherfucker!!!

Phone Phun, Part II

So redneck we need a retard in
our room playing a banjo.

Fatass is being obnoxiously loud while talking on the phone to Bess, so I'm going to be a dick right back and post all of his retarded comments on the blog. You know it, you love it. What you'll read is exactly what he's said on his phone conversation to Bess, and then my comments about it.

Let me set the mood for you by telling you that he's laying on his bed in his boots, the mud dripping down onto the place where he sleeps. He lifted up his shirt so that (surprisingly) his bitchtits are covered, but his gut is flopping out, and he's playing with his bellybutton. Gee, why did you get an ear infection, Fatass? Maybe you should stop picking your bellybutton and/or asshole then shoving your finger in your fucking ear.

"I keep hearing the word "terminal" and I think about guns and killing you." That's what he just said to Bess. Seriously, Fatass has issues. Normal people think of computers or airports or something else. For a psychology major, you think he'd pick up on the fact that he's as fucked up in the head as they come.

Oh, and here we go with two minutes of "I loveums you". Hooray. My night has just become fucking fantastic. Clearly, Fatass hasn't taken Penn Jillette's words. Sorry, Penn.

And now he's telling Bess that he refuses to see her when she's sick. "It better not be contagious or I'm going to kill you." Nice. K-Star, if I ever say that, you have permission to castrate me with a rusty knife, okay? You'd think that Fatass would want to make his girlfriend better, but nope. "I'm sorry, I can't afford to be sick."
Yeah, his state healthcare hasn't kicked in. Yep, he told me about it, so it's not just a guess here. He wants to suck on the state tit. Too bad the application hasn't gone through. Good to see that Big State justice still works. He doesn't have health insurance. Cry me a river. You know what? I got fucking swine flu without health insurance. You know what you do? You take as much over the counter shit and pray for the best. He's bitching about a little cold. Fuck you and everyone that looks like you, Fatass. Just thought I'd throw in another disclaimer, letting everyone know that I don't hate fat people. I just hate obnoxious selfish douchebags and I will make fun of anything and everything about them.

(really loud obnoxious yawn)

"I'd very much love to go see my sister and my niece and nephew." Yup, get the condoms and sex lube ready there, Fatass. Apparently, he's completely ditching Bess on spring break and refuses to see her at all the entire week. "I just need to get away from the area." Wow. What a bitch.

Now he's doing some cutesy voice saying, "I wanna play!" Yup, predatorial instincts. It's time to play the game, bitch, and this isn't one of those fun games. It's all about the pain and who's gonna make it. And now he's telling Bess that he's leaving to go visit Bitchface. Funny, I thought you told her you were never gonna see Bitchface again. You must have been a controlling asshole and told her that she doesn't have a choice.

(really loud obnoxious yawn)

(annoying fart noises into the phone)

"Am I bothering you," he asks Bess (I think). Yes you are, you god damn piece of monkey shit.

(obnoxious yawn)

"I loveums you." Yup, and now Bess is in a bad mood because Fatass is hanging out with Bitchface. Now Fatass is getting pissed and verbally abusive.

Apparently now he's sorry and they're talking about herpes. Hooray. "I'm sorry, I just go to school with a bunch of fucking children, and they need to be fucking beat." Yeah, and so do you. You're the biggest fucking child of them all, you self-indulgent redneck cunt.

Now they're talking about when they met, and how Bess felt that Fatass was more like a big brother to her. Yup, more incest and now rape. Awesome. This is so redneck we need to have a retard in our room playing a banjo. Another "I loveums you". Yuck.

(belch, then fart noise)

Yeah, I'm done with this fucking shit. Hope you enjoyed, but I'm off to go do something that doesn't rhyme with "unching him in the face", because that may result in a hefty lawsuit. Get it? Yeah, he didn't.

Phone Phun

So it's time for another telephone conversation! He begins with the statement that his constant bitching and disagreeing with Bess has made him sick. No, I still think it's his bitchtits out in the open. Interesting side note: I have yet to contract whatever Fatass has and get sick. I'm thinking it's just the tits in the breeze.

Now  he's bragging to Bess about Bitchface getting a job. Why should she care? Seriously. Apparently, after Bitchface learned she got a job at the dining hall, she tackled Fatass. That is an accomplishment in itself.

"I suppoooooooose since you've been such a good girl, I can give you a massage tomorrow." Ew. Just ew. I need to bleach my brain. Right now.

And now here we go with him making fart noises into the phone for hours on end. Seriously, it's like he's talking to a 5 year old.

"I'm already hating the semester." Yeah, I hate you too, you bulbous, pus-filled fuck.

Ooooh! Now we know why Fatass's back hurts! He was sitting on a dryer and jumped, landing it wrong, thus confirming the stereotype that fat rednecks should not jump around without careful planning.

Now he's calling people lazy cowards. Has he looked in the mirror lately?

(Loogie break)

Now he's asking me if he's being too loud for me. If he only knew... I think I smell a musical interlude coming... if you all will please turn your songbooks to "Scotty Doesn't Know" by Lustra...

Fatass doesn't know that my K-Star and me

Make fun of his life every damn day

He does such stupid shit

And I say it's okay

But still I blog away

And Fatass doesn't know!

Oh, Fatass doesn't know-oh...

So don't tell Fatass,

Fatass doesn't know, Fatass doesn't know.

So don't tell Fatass!

You know I say I'm just gaming

But I'm really Insult Hall of Faming

'Cause Fatass doesn't know,

Fatass doesn't know,

Fatass doesn't know,

Fatass doesn't know,

So don't tell Fatass,

Fatass doesn't know.

So don't tell Fatass!

I can't believe he's so smelly,

Or that Bitchface likes his belly,

Bess has got him on the phone

And I'm trying not to groan

It's so gross 'cause he's just flaming, flaming...

Fatass doesn't know,

Fatass doesn't know,

Fatass doesn't know,

So don't tell Fatass!

Fatass doesn't know,

Fatass doesn't know.

So don't tell Fatass,

I'll put show,

Everyone will go.

Fatass doesn't know,

Fatass doesn't know.

Fatass doesn't know.

The use of soap?

You say nope.

It'd be so cool

If you just croak.

Until then the words will flow

Laughing so hard because Fatass doesn't know,

Fatass doesn't know!

I blog about his bitchtits...

Fatass doesn't know,

Fatass doesn't know,

Fatass doesn't know,

Fatass doesn't know!

Don't tell Fatass!

Fatass doesn't know!

Fatass will know!

Fatass has to know!

Fatass gotta know!

Gonna tell Fatass!

Gonna tell him myself!

Fatass has to know!

Fatass has to know!

Fatass has to know!

Fatass has to know!

Fatass has to know!

Fatass has to know!

Fatass doesn't know!

(Chant with me!!!) Fatass doesn't know!

Fatass doesn't know!

Fatass doesn't know!

Fatass doesn't know!

Fatass doesn't know!

Fatass doesn't know!

Fatass doesn't know!

FATASS HAS TO GO!

Well, now that you mention it...

So after I get out of my night class, I decided that it'd be a good idea to go over to the ol' place of employ and pick up my paycheck and maybe buy some orange juice at some point. I made up my mind about this in class while attempting to listen to my professor. Oops. Anyway, class lets out and I call up K-Star, because she's got a nice schedule where she has NOTHING on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and she takes a genuine interest in how my day was. So I give her a call as I'm walking back into my room. Nothing abnormal there, right? Right.

I walk back into my room, wrap my bag around one of my bedposts, walk over to my desk and grab my keys and wallet, and then walk out the door without so much as a hello to Fatass, who incidentally is on the phone with Bess. I figured that was a good thing, because it allowed me to not talk to him since he was preoccupied.

So I come back to my room and see that I'm alone. I settle in and then Fatass comes back in, ruining my day entirely. While I have my headphones on (sensing a pattern here?), he asks me if he pissed me off that badly. I had to stop for a moment and think of all the things he could have done to piss me off. I think he gave me a weird look because it took me a few minutes to reminisce about all the shit that he's done in the past seven months. It finally dawns on me that he's talking about my hasty exit from the room while talking to K-Star.

So yeah, sure. Why not? Yeah, you pissed me off that much. Of course, I'm not going to say that to your face, you disgusting bag of horse shit. If I had a choice, I'd be rooming alone, but again, thanks to Big State's fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine education system, I'm stuck here with your fat ass. Is it spring break yet? Seriously, I want to strangle this bastard.

Phone etiquette

So we all know that Fatass has some serious verbal abuse issues when talking to Bess on the phone. What I never expect is Bess giving me attitude just because Fatass isn't there to take her call. Granted, I get why she's pissed. Fatass is probably off porking Bitchface in a dirty basement, and Bess isn't happy about it. I understand. And the other big problem is that Bess is just a hint above the age of consent, so she doesn't know any better. Fatass is her sweetheart while she was in high school (even though he was in college when they started dating). So she's got these rose colored glasses on and he's just fucking with her. However, don't shoot the messenger, bitch.

Honestly, I haven't seen much of Fatass today, aside from 10 minutes after I got back from dinner. He had his shirt off and started talking to me after I had my headphones on. However, Bitchface wasn't there, so the Trifecta of Annoyance was not complete. Anyway, he left to go do some stupid thing, so it's actually been a pretty Fatass free day. However, I still feel rage bottling up inside. I must really have issues, but I'm going to do the healthy thing that millions of Americans do every day and let it out on somebody else. It's only natural, right? Bess does it to me when I answer the phone, so I'm gonna let out my rage on another person that should have his body dragged through the streets of Rome.

I have no fucking clue why, but I am Facebook friends with a highly annoying excuse of a person who seems to think that his minor accomplishments are stuff of the gods and he should have his feet kissed for them. As a part of his Facebook bio, he proudly states that he was the "Valedictorian of Senior Magazine Sales" at his high school. I am not making this up.

I'm tempted to write on his wall and say, "Hey, Mr. Self-Important Bag of Shit Nobody Cares About! I think of your senior magazine sales on the same level as the latest guy or guys the Kardashians are banging." For those of you who are wondering, I don't give a flying fuck about either.

Nobody freaking cares about high school, not even high school professionals. Now, before I get angry comments and emails saying that I don't understand the rigors of the high school teachers in Big State, let me tell you this. I know enough about public education to see someone get pushed through if it's needed. I've seen enough "star athletes who struggle just a wee bit" get forced through trig and calculus just so that they can get their diploma and then the big scholarship so that they can go to a big school and put tiny little East Bumfuck on the map as the Hometown of Joe Beercan. I've also seen enough shit go down in guidance counselors' offices to be shocked and appalled at the way transcripts are treated. I've seen situations where transcripts weren't sent out at all because, "Oops, I forgot." That's not to say that there aren't dedicated, caring individuals working in public education. It's that the great majority of them don't give a shit.

Anyway, back to our original tangent. The only people that care about high school are college admissions offices, and even then, they don't care about high school if you're transferring in. If you're a freshman, they don't even care if you were the "valedictorian of senior magazine sales". All they care about are SAT and ACT scores, your high school GPA, and they want to see that you did a few extracirriculars just to make sure you weren't just twiddling your dick for four years.

So here's the deal, Mr. Facebook Fuckhead. Do something notable in college aside from making minor things into delusionally earth shattering life events. Maybe get a hobby or stop masturbating into condoms and go get laid for real. No, on second thought, I take that back. People of your breed should not be permitted to spill your seed into the gene pool.

Yeah, I'm probably being hypocritical right now. I'm probably not giving people the proper consideration to make fair decisions. Hell, I'll be the first to tell you that I make things out to be a big deal, but not on this scale. You don't see me bragging on Facebook with the accomplishment, "Biggest Dump in Pissy Household, 2008".

And now guess who's back in the room. He's now laying on his bed "studying", but is really talking to himself and humming to himself. Oh, and yeah. He took his shirt off right after walking in the door, so don't even bother asking. Today just keeps getting better and better.

And there it is!

It hasn't been seen for two days... It's disappearance has become the talk of newspeople, entertainers, college professors, and professional observers everywhere. But today, it made its return, seemingly bigger than ever before.

My friends, the crack is back. It's staring at me, trying to get me to look at it. The coarse back hair that trails down to it is attempting to tease me. It's as if his whole body thinks that it should be looked at, as if some sort of genetic marvel that combined the tits of a woman with the body hair of a man. Too bad it hasn't realized that it's disgusting and OH MY FUCKING GOD! He's got red sores on his back. Like bleeding red sores. I guess that's what happens when you don't shower, but fuck! John Mayer, in all of HIS creepiness, would say that his body is a hideous wasteland. Oh, and now he notices he's bleeding, wipes up some blood, looks at it, and rubs his ear. I may just vomit.

Oh, I forgot to mention that he's on the phone with Bess. It's a miracle, because she hasn't been here for two days. Maybe Bess got upset enough that he got the picture. So I'm trying to mind my business, but he talks awfully loud, just like most of the other things he does, so I can't help but eavesdrop.

Oh, here's something else that makes me want to lock him into a port-a-john and set it on fire (quote courtesy George Carlin)...

K-Star and I are a normal, loving couple (as far as I know). When we wish to proclaim our love over the phone, we say, in a normal voice, "I love you." This is just like most people in America. But Fatass, and I think this may go back to his desire to pork young girls, says, "I loveums you..." in this singsong voice that makes me want to slap him in the mouth. And when Bess doesn't do it back, he gets mad. He insists that she say, "I loveums you" back. Maybe it's all a part of the preteen sexual thrill for him, but for me it's something that makes me want to stab him in the throat.

Now Fatass is attempting to give Bess homework help... for the HIGH SCHOOL homework she has. HIGH SCHOOL!!!!!!! Please tell me I'm not the only one who wants to call Chris Hansen on him! But apparently, she's attempting to do homework, and he's on the phone distracting her. There it is again with the "I loveums you". Here's the deal, Fatass - say that one more time, and then I'll be saying "I killums you" while stabbing him with a disposable plastic knife. Dirty fuckhead.

And now he's laying down on his back, so his hairy mantits are sticking straight up. I think he may be giving himself a self breast exam, but I'm not about to look over his way. So now, an open letter.

Dear K-Star,

Please send me a pic of your boobs so I can remember what real boobs are supposed to look like. After seeing all this manboob, I'm afraid that I may be turned off to all boobs. I need to make sure I can still get a boner from boobs. Thanks!

"I loveums you" Love,
Pissed

Seriously, it's not just my sanity that's being affected by this fuckhead. Being forced to look at his disgusting bitchtits may have turned me completely off to all tits. What Fatass does the second he enters the room is take his shirt off. Sometimes he forgets to close the door before doing so. I think he may be in love with them. I haven't seen any push-up bras around here, but I figure he's got a drawer for that. Another open letter:

To my cousin, the Fed,

Can you please come cap this bastard and make it look like an accident?

Thanks.

"I loveums you" With much family love,
Pissed

That's right. Who's got two thumbs and is in rare form tonight? This guy. Now he's saying that The Giver is a good book. Honestly, I never read it. It was required reading in 7th grade, so I obviously blew it off and made up my book reports. So I'm not sure if it's a good book, but all I can think of is homosexuality. Is Fatass seriously trying to come on to me? I'm beginning to fear for my cornhole.

To my cousin, the Fed,

Please come cap his ass ASAP.

"I loveums you" Please hurry,
Pissed

Fatass now says that he's got a lot of work to catch up on. You'd never know it, seeing as he's either on the phone with Bess or with Bitchface whenever he's not in class. Have you ever had one of those moments like in the movie Liar, Liar, where Jim Carrey's character has the convict on the phone asking for advice after being jailed again, and he just yells into the phone, "STOP BREAKING THE LAW, ASSHOLE!!!"

Yeah, I'm feeling that right now. You want to actually get your shit done? "STOP BREAKING THE LAW, ASSHOLE!!!" Stop talking to your barely legal girlfriend. Stop hanging out with Bitchface. Stop trying to come on to me. Maybe shower with soap every once in a fucking while. And for the love of all things holy, stop playing with your nipples, you disgusting inbred hillbilly fuck.

Here's where I'm going to have to leave you, my friends. I think I'm going to go throw up now. I leave you with one last open letter.

To my friends,

Normally I would ask you to come kill me now to put me out of my misery. However, I don't see any of this shit as my fault. If you can send all your rays of hatred toward my roommate, maybe he'll just spontaneously combust.

"I loveums you",
Pissed