Hey everyone. My daughter is a fat ass! A real porker. "Oink, oink, piggy-piggy." Fat fucking fat fat fatty fat fat. Lard ass. Blimpo. I found a family of chipmunks living in one of her folds.
She smells like bacon grease and heart disease. She's fat, I tell ya.
We had her weigh-in yesterday. For those that don't know, we have the Peanut weighed every three to four months because she is borderline failure-to-thrive. Her weigh in at the end of december was rough. She wasn't just gaining slowly anymore, she had lost weight. Officially failure to thrive. Yesterday? She has gained 2 whole pounds, the fat bitch. I don't know what she's been eating, but whatever it is we're all out of it. She's a black hole with cellulite. Living with my daughter is like living with Kirstie Alley if Kirstie Alley had been eaten by my daughter. Wide. Load.
This was the main stress point that contributed to my cranky mood this week. I'd like to apologize to anyone it affected. I believe I thoroughly shit all over Knucklehead at knuckleheadhumor.com because I partially disagreed with his American Idol analysis. I commented on his blog, he emailed back, and I think I wrote back something like, "Oh yeah, well you're wrong because fuck you, Wrong-y."
Err, sorry about that.
As for my sexting with God, well, my wife knows about it, the relationship hasn't gone any farther than the cell phone, and I'm going to break it off soon. Dude's mad cling-y. Although the pic of him tea-bagging a pissed off Archangel Gabriel is a keeper.
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