Fat is No Fun

If you are an animal, fat is no fun. 

It probably isn't fun for a human either, but if you have gorged yourself to the size of a beached whale, I don't care if you have fun.

There are people with pea-sized brains who apparently equate love with food and almost love their pets to death.  Dogs and cats get all the same fat related diseases that people get, feel just as miserable, then die.

The difference is that pets are victims of their human owners.  Fat humans have choices.

People who are too stupid or lazy to care for a pet and her health should not be allowed to have a pet and should be caged.

This little bundle of fur name Meow is almost 40 pounds.  She is currently in a shelter and on a weight loss diet.

I rest my case.

Happy Trails!
Mimi McMouth

Do You Think Mitten Might Be Out of Touch?

"Yikes! These stiff denim trousers, uh I mean dungarees, I mean uh jeans are shoving my weird Mormon underwear right up my ass!  How the hell do you redneck morons wear these all the time?"

"I don't know who this yayhoo is or what language he's speaking, but these hillbillies seem to like him.  I'll just smile and pretend to understand.

 

 

"Here's the bottom line, old lady. I'm a billionaire. I'm interested in more money and more power. If you think I give a rat's ass about your pathetic little life, you're even stupider than you look. Deal with it."

Happy Trails,

Mimi McMouth 

Tell Me Again. How Many Wives Do I Get?

No, Grandpa had four wives.  I only have three.  Three good Christian wives.  Get it right, cracker.

The Four Most Obscene 4-Letter Words

Forget the F-bomb and the C word.  The four most obscene four-letter words in the English language, in no particular order, are:

NEWT

RICK

MITT

and RUSH

Happy Trails,

Mimi

Does Rick Sanitarium Have Rabbit Genes?

"No, you must be confusing me with Roger.

No, I do not have rabbit teeth.

We just breed like rabbits."

Happy Trails,

Mimi



Who Knew Mormons Ate Babies?

Mormons are even sillier than mainstream Christians, if that's possible.   The godly silent majority basically views Mormonism as a cult.  They probably don't realize how screwed up Mormons really are.  I wonder if they know that Mitt Romney eats babies.

"I just love babies ... a little spicey, a little sweet ... just so delicious!"

Happy Trails,

Mimi

God Doesn't Really Love Everyone, But Santa Does

I find it amazing that so many people still believe the Jesus story, his filicidal father and their flying sidekick, the holy ghost. 

They steadfastly cling to the belief that instead of dying, the will live forever with Jesus and friends. 

Believers are able to section off portions of their brains to engage in magical thinking.  

Facts and data become irrelevant.

Like the fact that the rule book of this cobbled together, cooked up religion of the Bronze Age was decided by a committee of politicians a couple of hundred years after Jesus was romping around the Middle East.

Why?  Why?  Why?

Mimi will tell you.

All believers are former children. 

Their Mummies and Daddies told them about Santa and told them about Jesus.  Children will believe anything. 

Remember?

So why did they stop believing in Santa but still believe in Jesus? 

No one ever told them they would burn in Hell if they didn't believe in Santa.

Mimi loves you.

XOXOXO

Hey Mitt! Show us your underwear!

I just read Mitt Romney's bio on www.mittromney.com.  It's missing some information.

Like the time his grandfather fled the US to Mexico to live because polygamy was outlawed.  Grandpa took all the grandmas with him too.

Okay.  That's a low blow.  Sorry.

Think about this.

Does this look presidential?

THE BELT

No one disputes the power of words.  At least no one with a brain. If you do, please be quiet.

Consider the word BELT. 

Belt the jerk in the kisser.

Buckle your seat belt. Win the bull rider trophy belt. Drive around the beltway. Preserve the green belt. Get burned in the Sun Belt. Freeze your buns off in the Snow Belt. Have a stiff belt of Jack Daniels. Wear a funky belt with your new jeans. Belt out "I Did It My Way" in the shower. Move out of the Bible belt.

A Google search of BELT nets 27,900 results in .18 seconds. After scrolling past seductive shopping choices and the Wikifakepedia listing, a disturbing entry caught my eye.... In the ‘Stroke Belt,’ Erosion of Memory Is More Likely Too. *

The article states that folks living below the Grits Line “have long been known to have more strokes and to be more likely to die from them than people living elsewhere in the country.”

I once lived in Georgia. . . and moved away. I once lived in North Carolina. . . and moved away. I didn't realize the locations were lethal.  I just thought the music was bad.



In case you have never heard of the Grits Line, once you cross it going from north to south, it is the point at which you are automatically served grits instead of toast with your breakfast order.

Breakfast Below the Grits Line

"Southerners are also more likely to experience a decline in cognitive ability over several years - specifically, problems with memory and orientation." I knew living there was hot and sticky, but I had no idea it would make my mind move to Philadelphia while my body stayed in Dixie.

“Experts do not know exactly why more strokes occur in the region stretching across Alabama, Arkansas, Georgia, Louisiana, Mississippi, North Carolina, South Carolina and Tennessee (sometimes additional Southern states are included in the stroke belt).”

Is it the deep fried possum, fried catfish, hushpuppies, fried ham, red-eye gravy and Moon Pies craved by the sons and daughters of Dixie? Too much porch sitting? Too many hours of “Dukes of Hazard” reruns?

Maybe.  Maybe not.  Researchers continue to investigate.

Dr. Gustavo C. Roman, head of the neuroepidemiology section of the American Academy of Neurology says, “This should be a very strong alarm signal.”

Well, duh, Gustavo.  Do you live in Alabama?  Is it already happening to you?

“If you want to keep your marbles, you need to control your blood pressure, excessive weight and other risk factors for stroke.”

Probably Not Keeping Her Marbles

Oh, yes please.  I do want to keep my marbles.

Dr. George Howard, chairman of the biostatistics department at the University of Alabama and principal investigator of the study said, “One of the things we are concerned about is, it does sort of reinforce every negative stereotype about the South, that there are these slow hicks down here.”

Congratulations, Dr. Howard!  

Dr. Howard has just been awarded The Ulysses S. Grant Most Hated Man in the South Award for 2011.

* Read the July 4^th NY Times article by Pam Belluck at http://www.nytimes.com/2011/07/05/health/05stroke.html?_r=1&adxnnl=1&pagewanted=all&adxnnlx=1309802461-QKm1g+TNidtWr9/zrBic7Q

©2011 Mimi McMouth

Content may not be used without the expressed permission of Mimi McMouth



BEAR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The recent grizzly bear attack on seven teenagers can be blamed on Don Ford, the Alaska director of the National Outdoor Leadership School, the group operating the wilderness program.

Don claims he told the students to "Play dead if they spotted a grizzly."

Apparently he failed to add, "This does not include screaming "BEAR!" and trying to run away."

"The bear came really fast, that was super unusual."

Well excuse me, Don.  I guess the bear didn't attend your little briefing.

All of the injured will survive. 

Kind of a shame, don't you think?

Another opportunity for removing stupid people from the gene pool is lost.

ATTACK OF THE GIANT HOT FLASH

Don't tell me to stop whining about the heat.  Stuff it.  It's too freaking hot.
 
"Pretty soon you'll be complaining about the cold."

No.  I won't.  I can put on another sweater.  And gloves.  And a coat and a hat and leggings and more socks. 

I'm buck naked right now and it's still hot.  Not just naked and still hot, but Buck Naked.  That's the most naked a person can be.   

"Heat, ma'am!  It was so dreadful here, I found there was nothing left for it but to take off my flesh and sit in my bones." ~ Sydney Smith, Lady Holland's Memoir

What I hate most is what happens in my neighborhood.  My underwear neighborhood.  I never wear a thong on purpose, but when my normally reliable cotton underpants get sweaty (yes, I said sweaty underpants), they start that anti-gravity slide up the crack and before long they're stuck up there.  Look around.  Have you ever seen so many people picking their underpants out of their bums?

There is also the hot, sweaty boob crease.  Women and fat men know it - that area just beneath the breasts or moobs where the sun never shines.  I'm putting Secret there now.  It helps a little.  I'm so grateful I don't have testicles.  I think there is a band named Sweaty Balls.

The heat is making me feel a little light headed.  Confused.  Slow.  Stupid.  I don't aim to do nuthin'.  Ah cain't hardly move an' I sure cain't talk fast.

That must be what's wrong with people in Alabama.  Melted brains.

The good news is men now know how a hot flash feels.

©2011 Mimi McMouth