The world makes NO sense whatsoever!

So they refused to pick up our recycling yesterday.  And why did they refuse to pick up our recycling, you ask?  Because we didn’t waste plastic bags by putting the recyclables inside of them.  Because, hello, we’re trying to be green and we can’t very well be wasteful and green, now, can we?  That’s like telling your kid, “Hey, sweetie, see that pot on the stove?  It’s going to be very, VERY hot.  Why don’t you go over and grab it by the sides with your bare hands for Daddy?  Who’s a good girl?”

And I’ve been on a hunt for two things, lately:  asparagus and an mp3 player.  I have had no luck finding either and it’s kind of upsetting.  I mean, yeah, sure, I could by the overly expensive asparagus in the plastic steamer bag for $5, but, you know what?  I don’t want to!  Hell, if I wanted to spend that much on one meal, I’d just go to some fast food joint and get a burger.

No, don’t get me started on the people, either!  Ok, I’ve gotten myself started on the people.

Went to Wal-Mart, and what did I find?  Nothing that I needed, but I did find two chunky girls dancing in the parking lot for two hot guys.  And then another chick pulled up (saying she was chunky would be the understatement of the year) and joined them and grabbed one of the other chick’s boyfriend’s crotch, and then everyone got in their cars and drove away.

I mean, if you have an open relationship, cool.  If you like 300+ pound women, also cool.  But that doesn’t mean that I need to see it.  Crotch grabbing is something that should either be kept in the bedroom or used as self-defense (remember, you have to twist and squeeze for the ultimate effect).  I don’t go around grabbing crotches in public.  That woman is a pubic nuisance!

And before I start getting hate mail or horrified screaming comments about “fatphobia” and the like, let me say this:  I do not like skinny women.  You’ve gotta have some meat on your bones for me to even notice your existence.  But I do draw the line at about 250 pounds for my own personal preference and safety.  I dated a 400 pound chick and, well, let’s just say that’s a post for another day, shall we?

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