During my lunch hour I headed to the Super Target to procure a cheap AM radio so I could listen to the NCAA Tournament games in my cubicle (as I post this, I am number two in the office pool. Stanford Cardinal all the way, baby). I follow a young woman (approximately 20 years of age) into the retail superstore and am horrified to witness to one of the most unsettling views in contemporary American society: low-rise jeans, a bare midriff and back fat. Rolls and rolls of mushy back fat. With a butterfly tattoo right in the middle of it. I should have reprimanded the young woman for not only showing off her obesity but also accentuating it with a stupid fucking tattoo. Ladies, if you have a handful of flab hanging over the side of your pants you do not look like Gabrielle Reece. You look like chain smoking gutter trash that takes their dirty bastard children to the flea market to purchase cheap jewelry and black market name brand clothing. For the love of baby Jesus, cover up that spare tire up with some fabric.

Labels: data slaughterhouse, gambling, gluttony, sports