I have friends who send me the “People of Walmart” picture collections all the time. I do find them funny, largely because anyone who ventures out in public looking like that deserves to have their picture posted online ad nauseam and to infinity, if for no other reason than to send a message. Some people actually have standards, such as keeping one’s butt crack covered and out of public view. (Steve-o….) I can’t blame Steve-o for crashing out on the couch, but I can get the pic of his exposed midriff. He can literally sleep anywhere, which can be fun to both watch and document.
On Sunday, when I was in Marion, Steve-o and I decided to go to Taco Bell, which hopefully was a good thing, because I think he has talked them in to having him work there again on the weekends. I get culture shock every time I go back up to Marion. Closer to home, I’m used to seeing foreigners and what I would consider “sophisticated freaks.” Up there, the freak element is usually morbidly obese, poorly dressed, and always White Trash.
Sunday was no exception. I was surprised I noticed her before Steve-o did, but then he is more acclimated to the ways of the Rural Ohio Redneck, because he lives in Marion and goes to school in Lima. It’s sort of like Deliverance- only without the mountains, canoes or banjos. There’s not much else to do in rural small towns except to eat and fornicate, so one can expect to see a lot of fat people doing a lot of breeding, especially the ones who don’t have cable.
Steve-o is not a “little guy.” He’s 6’1″ and somewhere between 180# and 190#. Up there, however, he is often dwarfed by the women. One thing I like about going back up there is that by comparison I’m downright petite.
This chick had at least 150# on Steve-o and probably an inch or two of height as well. I didn’t take a pic of her out of fear that since she was in an eating establishment she might mistake me for food. I don’t know where she found such massive pajama bottoms with this print, although Walmart is renowned for the variety of styles in their Plus Size collection. She had to be a 5X at least. Now I know who’s buying the size 20 underwear. Why, oh why, does any clothing manufacturer sell size 20 women’s undies in the thong style? What’s the point? I understand that it might take a few yards of material to craft a “brief” style panty (although there’s nothing “brief” about an ass the size of a Toyota Corolla) in that size, but the coverage factor would be well worth it. If one really wants a 5X thong it would be more cost effective to go to the Tractor Supply store and buy a 25′ spool of rope. Better yet, for the tiny bit of good it might do, as far as coverage goes, just go commando. It would spare others the visual of getting to see your thong-string as well as your gut when you get up and stretch and yawn. Woof.
I had to watch this heifer’s Taco Bell feeding orgy with a sort of a combination of disgust and awe. I tried to avert my eyes but I simply had to watch, sort of like when there’s a car wreck. You know you shouldn’t stop and gawk, but you just do. I never knew it was possible to cram two whole tacos in a human (?) mouth at one time, only to munch, chug Mountain Dew, and still manage to carry on a conversation. The two tacos were only an appetizer. I gazed in muted horror as She-Behemoth inhaled an order of Nachos Bell Grande, a steak quesadilla, a few burritos, a box of 12 supreme tacos, with sour cream and guacamole, and a Mountain Dew with a few refills. Thankfully I am not one who is easily nauseated. Steve-o (thankfully, or I’d never been able to keep a straight face) was facing the opposite direction of the She-Behemoth during her cram-fest so he didn’t get an eyeful of her power taco-stuffing adventure. He is not easily nauseated either, but he is also even less likely than I am to hold back his commentary on such a disgusting visual. I could only hope that if he did see and inevitably comment, that he would be kind enough to comment in German, so at least he would be the only one to understand that he was making crude references to the table manners of feeder swine.
I managed to eat my chili-cheese burrito without much incident. Steve-o did glance over and see She-Behemoth when he was on his way out, as she was stretching, yawning, and exposing a rather large bare patch of her rather porcine gut (and what I believe was -gag- the string of her thong.) All he did was look away and shudder. He saved his commentary for when we got in the car. I didn’t have the heart to tell him what watching her eat was like.
Now I know why I normally go through the drive-thru at places like Taco Bell, so I don’t have to sit down to eat and feel as if I am in a hog barn observing the sows suck down the slop.
It is sort of cruel to make fun of the large. I am not rail-thin by any stretch of the imagination, but there’s a difference between being large and being crude and large. If you have big meaty arms, wear tops with sleeves. Do the general public a favor and don’t confuse tights or leggings with pants. If your top doesn’t completely cover your butt, don’t wear it with tights or leggings. Tight jeans are for Steve Perry in the early ’80’s. If you don’t look like that, and if you aren’t a dude, don’t go there.
If I had a time machine…
Another disturbing trend I notice when I’m out in public is there must be a dire shortage of mirrors. Either that or I’m just old and it has become socially acceptable to go out while wearing house slippers and/or pajamas in general. I really try to save others from that visual.
I can stand the PJ parade a lot better than I can the Piercings and/or Tats Gone Wild crowd. What could possibly compel someone to tattoo his entire arm to look green and scaly like a lizard? I saw a Target “Team Member” (cringe– any place that has euphemistic names for their employees such as “Associate,” “Team Member,” etc. is almost always a dreadful place to work, and I’ve commented on that phenomenon before) yesterday who had this done to his left arm. He was a nice looking young kid at one time- probably even magically delicious- before the 1 1/2″ earrings, before the nose rings, before the lip rings, and I don’t even want to speculate on piercings or tats in other areas. Maybe that’s why he ended up a stock boy at Target instead of a Chippendale’s dancer.
I have to wonder how many tats are inspired by a little too much drinky-drinky?