Friday, 18 January 2013
Facebook Franco, The Alpha and De Fatties in The Gym
As I log into de facebook yet again on yet another drizzly Irish (real Angela's Ashes shit) day, and skim through the latest transparent, banausic to the point of tedium rant tirade on girl problems, funny jokes about the horse meat controversy in Ireland right now (I don't know whether to laugh my hole off, or stop purchasing goods in Lidl and get my own little piece of land, with pitchfork, corn and butch hog "ama gonne make eh man outea u" BOSS hog lassie) and of course, the land of the giant ego.
A six, gentlemen. Svelte, nice body, but a manjaw that defies gravity and can, by itself, split the atom in two right there, with unforseen consequences, sending the effeminate, milquetoast laddo careening into the wank shop to get some of the finest FHM magos. She probably donates all that armpit hair to toupee fellas. Hehe, dat David Davin Power fiend is wearing snatch hair on his head!
So yeah, I mean this lassie is definitely in the would bang department. But then, as I click the picture (her posing in a skimpy bikini pressing her breasts together, so she's real take her home to fucken mammy material) and all the suckos, all these emasculated twats, are queuing up to tell her how hot she is, how beautiful she is, and blah blah blah maybe she might let me slap her on the arse if she knows how much I LIKE her like, because I am better than all those sycophantic trolls. Blech. I post a comment just then:
me mates 90 year old granny has a bikini like that
Guess which of the cunts on the comment list got a nice little PM and a few em...back?
Now, here's another funny story that will inspire many of yous out there. As the lads and lassies here who have de facebook know, people get linked in de Facebook all the time, stuck in pictures, tagged off and whatever. There's a wee lassie on my friend's list who I daresay, is...rotund. Not fat mind you, she's a fucken big boned horse of a thing. Yeah, Big boned. Let's go with that. Keep thinking that and it will all go away. So, I click onto her page roysh, and there's a less than flattering picture of her hillwalking in the arse end nowhere of Connacht. Hair tossed about playfully by the wind, sumo wrestler beer belly drooping over her belt. The picture is tagged with the line "nice to get away from it all".
Then some random cheeky cunt from Mayo comments: "from the cake?" and the beure fucking loses it like a fucking D4 lassie forced to shop at Penny's because the bus to Dundrum has fucking broken down. Cue a hilarious FOOK off ye small dicked cunt blast of comments, a dweeby, underweight STEM student (eh, he's a twat, I'm Jerry and he's my fucking Newman), trying to defend this lassie's dignity, and the finest fat jokes this side of South Park, with some references to Moby Dick thrown in, which I always approve of. So, I'm there, with my little bag of popcorn, sociopath Franco, and enjoying every minute of it. Alas, she complains, deletes everything, and I cannae post it for your enjoyment, so I have to comment about it.
But here's the best part. I'm in the gym the day after, and lo and behold, I see this poor lassie. On a treadmill. She sees me.
"Francis, hey boy."
"What's the craic Emily?"
"Ah sure, nothin much. Decided to get into the gym for a bit like. New Years Resolution (bullshit) and all, like god, like, you know yourself and all how how this works like."
"Can I ask you something?"
"It's just that...you seem to be reasonably fit like. And like, I'm just staerting off."
"About getting fit?"
"Yeah. What should I eat? What should be my exercise routine? I'm like, totally like, those jaffa cakes, they're my addiction. They're so, like lovely Francis? You know what I mean?"
"You're so sardonic Francis! (think she means laconic here)"
"Well, it ain't rocket science Emily. Ever hear of the Paleo Diet? Long story short, it's bayesically eating what we were evolved to eat. I mean, we're both potato eating Irish, so dat be cool like, and Western Europeans in general have a really high lactose tolerance, so dat Dairy shit is probably ok for us, but the rest is fucking dollary doo. Mark Sisson, he's a cool guy. You won't go wrong with him,"
"That is like, totally interesting. Don't want to hold yous up or anything, but any website that I should look at?"
"Mark's Daily Apple is a good place to start, sure."
"Ok, thank you."
"Gotta head off there now like Em."
"Sure, I'll see you later."
"Oh, and Francis? That girl Rachael (miss granny bikini) is like, totally obsessed with you? She's been throwing bikinis in the bin like mad, taking the piss as well out of you. What the hell did you do to her?"
"Aw cmon, you can tell me."
"She said you like humping grannys!"
"Did she? Poor lass."
"So you won't tell me."
"Like I said, it's complicated."
"Oh, well see you soon, since you won't tell me, mr sardonic, hopefully more around the gym"
"Sure, I'll see you around".
There is absolutely no doubt that Facebook raises the self esteem of the average lassie to an unhealthy, erroneous level. But, I ask you gentlemen, if you were to say, avoid the beta male patsy comments, and engage in a bit of the fat shaming, what a wonderful magical world we might have. Thanks to a random fat dude with a beard, and thanks to me, we saved a fat girl from the sea of white whales. Join me gentlemen, take my hand and help the cause. That fat chick has actually lost 5 pounds since chatting to me. I'm actually quite proud of her, and I hope she succeeds, I really do. It's like she's my sister. But she's not. Tomorrow will be the most beautiful day of Raymond K Hessel's life. And all you have to do is call him a lardarse.
There is always hope.