FatKidsLie

Stay classy Staten Island This is a planter outside my...

Fri, 02 Sep 2011 11:46:43 -0400

Stay classy Staten Island

This is a planter outside my building. Where the hipsters congregate. Good job.

Smelly People

Thu, 04 Aug 2011 10:01:32 -0400

If it’s 9am and you smell like BO and apathy then you need to seriously re-examine your personal hygiene regiment. Yes, I understand if you work some weird midnight to 8am shift, but if you do that then you should re-examine your life and career path… because DAMN!

So pretty much every morning I get on the train either to go to school or work and this old guy who looks like he’s got a secret child molesting dungeon in his basement sits right behind me. Like back to back behind me. Every fucking day. And he smells like ointment and unwashed ass and feet.

Un-fucking-acceptable.

And every day, right after he sits next to me, I get up and move to the other end of the car and he gives me…. ME a dirty look! Dude! Get a fucking clue! Take a fucking hint! Use some fucking Riteguard and Irish Spring!

Today I had to get into a different car because all the forward facing seats were taken (I got issues and I gotsta sit forwards or backwards on the train, not sideways. It’ll throw off my whole day). In NYC it’s illegal and of course I run into a cop.

I told him it was life-or-death and explained the situation. The cop shook his head and said “ok… I just don’t give a fuck about anything anymore…” and took a swig from his flask and let me alone.

Good morning.

Grandma got Mugged

Tue, 18 Jan 2011 11:07:13 -0500

Once in the late 1980’s in Queens, NY where there were fully nude strip clubs on the main streets in a major city and drug dealers and pimps roamed the streets in fur coats and purple fedoras with giant peacock feathers attached to them like something out of a blacksploitation movie, my grandmother got mugged. It wasn’t really much of a mugging. The guy didn’t pull a knife or a gun or a stick with a nail in it or anything like that. It was really a snatch-and-grab type deal.

Some delinquent decided that an old lady, who was about 4ft nuthin’, wearing a mink coat would give up her sequined purse that was chock full of hard candy, a change of jewelry and a gangster roll of cash without a fight. But he didn’t realize that old people are usually not afraid to fight because they have no friends since they’ve outlived them all and are not afraid to die because they are old and get visits from the Grim Reaper every time they sit down on the toilet and will not take the kind of crap that stealing their purse in a snatch-and-grab type robbery entails from some young whippersnapper like you ya filthy punk hoodlum.

So when the guy tried to grab the bag and run away Grandma just stood there. Planted like the brick shithouse she was. The would-be robber just stopped, turned around, grabbed the purse with both hands, tried to pull it away and said what only some fucktarded criminal could possibly think of saying to a grandma that you’ve failed to mug: “Leggo th’ bag ya old bitch!”.

Grandma then reached back (like a pimp) and knocked that idiot out.

And knocked a tooth out of his head.

A construction worker was already rushing to her aid, took her by the hand and sat her down on a nearby bench. The robber started to get up and some kids said “no… you got knocked out by a grandma. You stay down now. You wait for the police to arrest you and take you away in a shameful way that you deserve.”

When the cops came they took one look at the robber, and then at my grandmother and wanted to arrest her for knocking him out so hard. So hard that he peed his pants.

Parenting 101

Mon, 10 Jan 2011 10:33:24 -0500

Me: [Your trusty fatkid, lucas]
Biff: [My girlfriend's 6 year old son]
Me: You've got 5 minutes to get your clothes for bed, and get in the shower!
Biff: Or else what? [in that 6 year old testing-the-bounderies voice]
Me: Or else I'm gonna take you out back and wash you with the hose and a dish sponge! [holding up the filthy dish sponge that I just used to clean bacon grease out of the sink because I forgot to do the trick where you put the paper towel in a coffee mug to catch the grease so you can throw it out]
Biff: oh...
Me: And then you're sleeping in the yard.
Biff: But... what happens when the wolves come for me? [Really, and i mean REALLY, scared now]
Me: That? Is YOUR problem. I'll be on the couch watching Transformers and eating your Captain Crunch.
Biff: [Runs up and gets his pajamas and a towel. Takes the quickest shower of his life and is good the rest of the night. I win.]

Guilt

Thu, 23 Dec 2010 16:02:06 -0500

Miriam: How can you leave for California knowing your poor mother's going to be home all alone on Christmas? Have you no heart?
Miles: Mom! You KNOW I have to work! And besides, we're Jewish!
Miriam: What's that got to do with it! You're leaving your mother ALONE on CHRISTMAS!
Miles: Enough with the Jewish Guilt.
Miriam: *sigh*

"Is there any reason that the bedroom smells like farts? I mean… I’ve been looking for..."

Wed, 22 Dec 2010 23:14:13 -0500

“Is there any reason that the bedroom smells like farts? I mean… I’ve been looking for dog shit all night because it smells so bad in there. Did you leave one in there for me? Like.. open the door, fart and close it? It’s really gross. It’s nasty. I don’t understand where it came from. It didn’t smell like that yesterday….”

- My girlfriend on the state of our bedroom. Which does smell like farts.

Not usually. Just… today. It’s really bad.

We’ve been sick for the past week and a half…

And for the record? Farts come from my butt.

Burning Man

Tue, 21 Dec 2010 08:00:07 -0500

“Hey mom! Remember that time that I was 7 and you brought me to BURNING MAN? That was the first time I saw adult penis!” was the quote of the hour. From my nephew. To my sister, Miriam.

Miriam is the one that used to live in my attic and got accused of hiding weed in a coffee pot, if you can recall. So she’s already a bad dude.

What had happened is that she was told by a friend (of questionable reputation and judgment) of a “music and arts festival” in the middle of the desert. So she and her friend (of questionable reputation and judgment) rented a car, drove down to burning man, and went in with her kid.

And it went downhill from there.

Burning man is the sort of thing that would make a Sodomite blush. Or so I hear. I wouldn’t go to there because I’ve got other priorities than smoking weed and having sex with hippie chicks. I generally don’t have sex with hippie chicks because “free love” usually means that the girls have hairy legs and toes and also buck teeth. And while you shouldn’t ever question anything that’s “free” there are some things that aren’t worth even that price. And hairy-leg-chick sex is one of those things….

According to my nephew, 13 years ago at Burning Man he saw:

A man shoot heroin up inside his penis hole.
Two men, one cup
A dude rocking out to the music in his head, throw up into a Big Gulp cup, and then drink it back down
A dude and a chick wearing animal mascot heads. And nothing else. They were just walking around all dirty and gross and holding hands. I guess that’s A definition of love….

My sister was smart enough not to let her son shower by himself. But for some reason not smart enough to get the fuck out of there. It scared him for life. I’m surprised that he doesn’t sleep on a bed of skulls or something.

Music Club

Mon, 20 Dec 2010 16:37:35 -0500

When I was a zit-covered tween in the early 1990’s I discovered music. More importantly I discovered music CLUBS. To remind everyone what those are, those were groups that you got CDs (the 1990‘s equivalent to iTunes or whatever. I’m not too sure how kids listen to music nowadays since I’m an old codger with hairy knuckles and an ever growing bald spot) for a really low price, providing that you purchased 5 more at the regularly extortionistic price. I think the best deal was like, 12 for a penny.

These clubs always had their “Membership Applications” as loose cards in the middles of magazines. Along with perfume & cologne sample strips. You filled them out and dropped them in the mail box. That was it. The postage was pre-paid.

The trick though was to not buy the extra CDs. Or at least ONLY buy those. You see, they also would send you random CDs that were “Geared to your taste”… which is odd because I always got Bobby Brown and Ace of Base disks, even though I ordered Aerosmith and Tom Petty and Lemonheads…. So I’m pretty sure that their music-similarity algorithm was fucked, to say the least. If you didn’t send back the randomly issued disks then they’d assume you wanted them and just charge you for them.

And if you did send them back? They’d never get there.

Yeah, it was a scam. So I felt that it was my duty to scam the scammers with a scam of my own.

I started ordering CDs under assumed names. Mainly super heros’ secret identities. I was “Scott Summers” (Cyclops), “Bruce Banner” (The Hulk), “Benjamin Jacob Grimm” (The Thing) and even “Hal Jordan” (Green Lantern). My Disk Connection was Marvelous (See what I did there? no? fine….). I kept getting tons of CDs every month, and then I’d never pay for them! I was really into it, and then I decided to try out totally made-up names.

We started to get packages for “Seymore Butts”, “Connie Lingus” and my favorite: “Harold J. Cox”. I can’t believe that this worked for so long, with so many different names going to the same address. I guess since this was before the current modern age of computers that red-flagging an application was more difficult. They probably used trailer-park high school dropouts to process the cards for $3.15/hr and at that point, why would they care if the company gets raped by a 12 year old?

It all came crashing down one day when my mom calls me down to answer the phone. The girl at the end asks for “Hugh G. Rection” and I hang up the phone. You see this was the 3rd time my mom got an apparent prank phone call (this was before caller ID and star-69 so prank calling was a pretty common occurrence) asking for “Harry Dicks” or “Dick Buttsman” or “Amanda Hugenkiss”.

For some reason that I cannot fathom she knew I was involved. And knew it was bad. Having me answer that call was her way of saying “I don’t know what you’re up to, but I know you’re up to something. Do NOT make me find out.” So I stopped sending in those cards and eventually the clubs stopped sending me collections notices so I figured that was that.

I figured right. I win.

Soy

Wed, 08 Dec 2010 00:08:00 -0500

Whenever anyone tries to get me to eat something that has soy in it I invariably lie and tell them that I’m allergic. Now, most people will, upon hearing that, forget that I believe that food allergies are make-believe. Either that or they think that I’m saying that as an attention getter like everyone else that’s allergic to anything.

The truth is that soy products are gross iand not a substitute for meat or cheese or real milk with lots of milk fat from a cow’s ginormous 4-nippled tit. Oh… wait.. I mean “teat”. Because otherwise I’m being vulgar.

Here are some facts about soy:

Soy was invented by Hitler (universally agreed upon as just about the worst person ever)
Soy makes men’s penis-holes close up for good.
Soy farmers do not care about black people.
The bullet that Johnny Cash used when he shot a man in Reno? Yeah. That was soy-based.
Christopher Columbus’ Small Pox blankets were made with soy-fibers.

"So in order to not be locked a room of assorted dicks I took bowling. It only met a couple times a..."

Wed, 03 Nov 2010 22:01:21 -0400

“So in order to not be locked a room of assorted dicks I took bowling. It only met a couple times a week, so I got to get out early the other three days. Which was great for me because that meant I could drink 40z and smoke up at the train station or in my friend’s garage. It further proves that bowling is the slacker’s golf”

- me.

PeePants

Mon, 01 Nov 2010 22:39:44 -0400

TheKid: MOM COME QUICK!!! JOHNNY PEED HIS PANTS!!!
MyGirlfriend: What? What the Hell?!?! Johnny! Go get cleaned up! You're too old to be peeing your pants! Why would you DO THAT?
TheKid: He couldn't get to the bathroom!
MyGirlfriend: Why not? What was going on that he couldn't get to the bathroom?!?!
TheKid: I was sitting on him.
MyGirlfriend: (*headpalm*) Why were you sitting on him?
TheKid: Because! He was gonna go to the bathroom! and I didn't want him to GO!
MyGirlfriend: *sigh* YoYou can't do it. OK?
TheKid: Jeeze... Why didn't you tell me that BEFORE?!?!?!

"My dad used to be able to finish the Sunday Times crossword puzzle in about 20 minutes. He’d..."

Fri, 22 Oct 2010 22:24:38 -0400

“My dad used to be able to finish the Sunday Times crossword puzzle in about 20 minutes. He’d make maybe one or two mistakes… but other than that it was perfectly filled out. When my sister asked him how he did that he said “You’ve got to have a head full of shit.” well, I firmly believe that having a head full of shit is an important skill. Or feature. I’m not 100% sure of the correct word. But at any rate I’ve attempted to fill my head full of shit by watching crappy TV shows and listening to NPR. Also, i read EVERYthing i can on the Internet. Wikipedia made me lose a job 2 years ago because i didn’t realize it was time to go to work…..”

- From my profile on a dating site. It’s pretty good at describing …. me.

California

Wed, 13 Oct 2010 02:30:42 -0400

TheKid: (pointing to some Mexican/South American teenagers walking down the street) I bet those guys are from California.
Me: (Thinking he's being somehow racist even though he's only 6) What the hell are you talking about? Those kids are from South America or something.
TheKid: Oh... I thought they were from California because they dressed pretty cool. (They were dressed like rocker teens from the suburbs because... well... I guess they were.)
Me: Oh... Well... Yeah... I guess I'd probably wanna hang out with them If I were still in High School.

My Cousin Louis

Sun, 10 Oct 2010 13:20:42 -0400

My cousin Louis was mentally handicapped. Since I normally use “retarded” as an insult I’m not going to call him that. Because I thought he was an awesome guy.

He was a creepy looking dude, dressed all in black with a black trench coat and had long messy stringy greasy hair and a scraggly beard and watched Startrek and was just gross and weird and awesome. He looked like one of those guys that would listen to Nine Inch Nails or Type O or whatever, only I don’t think he listened to much music. I think he was just creepy looking.

He claimed he couldn’t read but I’m not so sure. How else could he have learned CB radio lingo, and given directions for a whole convoy of truckers to encircle my block by offering them cut-rate pep pills and blowjobs? Hell… How’d he find a hand-held CB radio anyway?

He couldn’t find his way around his neighborhood in Queens, yet he figured out how to escape from the institute (can I just say “asylum”?) by breaking into the HVAC ducts and shimmying his way out. He then walks up to his house and sits down at the kitchen table like nothing out of the ordinary’s going on.

Then there was the time that he went to Puerto Rico.

This was back in the days before 9/11 and everything so you could just… yaknow… get on a plane and fly. SOMEhow he gets to JFK airport and starts talking to the girl at the ticket sales counter: “Hey… I’ve heard Puerto Rico’s really nice… how much is it to go there?”; hands her all his money; gets on the plane and flies down there like you or I would get on the bus and go to the mall.

A day or two later his mom (my aunt) gets a call from a woman who says that Louis is sitting on their porch, in Puerto Rico, with no money to get home. The dude was sitting on the beach, in a black trench coat and hat, all dazed and confused (because of the heatstroke) and this woman took him in. My aunt thinks it’s a hoax, but then realizes that her son is weird enough to do shit like that.

Wiggady Weiner

Fri, 08 Oct 2010 04:02:42 -0400

lastanarchyangel: yay! now get on all fours and bark for me bitch!

fattie20xl: two words: no chance.

lastanarchyangel: ummm y not ?

fattie20xl: 'cause you're the widdady wiener.

lastanarchyangel: bull shit !!!

fattie20xl: it's true wiggady wiener. you ARE the wiggady wiener.

lastanarchyangel: well now i will cry ?

fattie20xl: i guess so.

fattie20xl: i mean... there's not much choice in the matter now, is there?

lastanarchyangel: well i am a cool wiggady wiener

fattie20xl: no.

fattie20xl: there's nothing cool about that.

fattie20xl: that's like... sombreros

lastanarchyangel: if i am one then it is cool

fattie20xl: if you say so. but just because you say so dosn't mean it's true. i mean... i say that i'm totally awesome... ok that's a bad example 'cause i'm totally awesome and all the dudes want to give me high-fives and all the ladies want to smootch..

lastanarchyangel: no

fattie20xl: ... yeah.

fattie20xl: i think you're right.

fattie20xl: but you're still the wiggady wiener.

"Get the fuck off of my grave, you shitheads!"

Thu, 07 Oct 2010 11:25:23 -0400

“Get the fuck off of my grave, you shitheads!”

- my brother doing an impression of my dad when we went to the gravesite.

Getting "Walked In On"

Thu, 30 Sep 2010 11:03:42 -0400

My niece has an 11 year old kid. She also has a boyfriend.

… DUN DUN DUUUUUNNNN

So she’s getting some and the kid walks out of his room to use the bathroom and hears some struggling in her room and opens the door and sees what nobody should EVER see!

and he runs away and hides in his room!

He then comes out and goes “YOU SEE?!?!!? THIS IS WHY I DON’T LIKE YOU HAVING GUYS SLEEP OVER!”

Deliveries

Wed, 22 Sep 2010 23:44:07 -0400

Something that pisses me off: When I order something and UPS/Fedex doesn’t deliver it. They claim to have made an attempt… but I get a little post-it on my door and then I don’t have my Doctor Who Comemerative Collectors Socks. Or whatever garbage I decide to spend my unemployment check on.

A couple of weeks ago I ordered some computer parts and I’m sitting home waiting for them, even though I had better things to do like ogle the semi,-cute girl at the Starbucks, making her feel uncomfortable and that I’ve violated her life by simply ordering a frikkin toffee-nut latte. But I couldn’t do that because the day before I got the fucking post-it note on the door! And that note said that next time? THAT WILL BE THE END!!!

So I’m sitting in my bedroom and I look out the window and I see a dude in a brown uniform bringing a package out of my house. “MOTHERFUCKER” I shouted! and I jumped down the stairs and ran out in my Captain Planet boxer shorts. Because I’ll be damned if I’m gonna go all the way to Best Buy or something to purchase the parts that I needed rather than have them delivered, even though I’d get them the same day and more to the point not have to sit around all day waiting to get it.

But that’s also not the point. The guy blatantly lied that he rang my bell. If he did then my scruffy dog would’ve been doing backflips thinking that I ordered some chineesefood or pizza or something. Because he knows that when the doorbell rings, he gets people food.

The delivery guy seemed pissed off that he had to bring the package out of the truck. They seem to not WANT to deliver stuff, which I guess is understandable because they spend all day delivering stuff that they can’t ever afford but it’s right there in their hands and they can almost feel the Wii controller or whatever it is that people buy (I only buy computer parts and Prussian Erotic Lithographs so I’m a little out of it).

But I still don’t get it because they have to schlep the boxes from the truck to the house and then back to the truck. Wouldn’t it make sense to leave it there? It seems that they’re doing more work to not do their jobs. But that’s what happens in America… I guess. That’s what we teach our kids? I dunno. I’m half drunk so I don’t really know what I’m saying.

Then yesterday I hear someone banging on my front door, so I go there with a meat-cleaver… fully prepared for BATTLE and it’s a FedEX guy. “Are you Mr. Roy?” … Roy lives downstairs from me. And that’s his first name. So I said “Yeah… sure…” The guy said “You no Mr Roy. Why he not home?”

He had genuine shock in his voice… like he’s expecting people to be home. All the time. Is there some sort of segment of the public that stays home all day ordering shit off of the internet and not working? I mean… other than me? And maybe Peggy Bundy? (did they have the internet back then? no right?)

Anyway… getting back to it… I think that those “We tried to deliver your shit but no… not really. We’re fucktastic.” notes have to go. And next time I get one I’m gonna go put on a lucha-mask, Power Rangers Tightie-Whities and my Golden Girls bedsheet as a cape and chase down the truck and then yell right in his face while pissing myself. I think that’ll get my message across.

"I know you know where I live. You sleep with my MOM!!!!"

Tue, 14 Sep 2010 08:15:53 -0400

“I know you know where I live. You sleep with my MOM!!!!”

- My Girlfriend’s 5 year old boy. In response to me threatening him with “you can run all you want… but I’ll get you. I know where you live…”

And I totally think that a 5 year old boy means SLEEP and not “SLEEP”

Also? This was at his grandmother’s birthday party. Where his grandfather was hanging out. Not 20 yards from his bow-hunting gear….

The Hickletts

Fri, 10 Sep 2010 10:00:00 -0400

I’m not exactly sure of the family structure of this group. I believe that it was two sisters who were living with a cousin of their’s. There was even stories of a third cousin flown in from Nebraska. I don’t really know… Because I wasn’t allowed to associate with them. For more than the obvious reasons.

All together there were at least 30 kids with a spread of 25 years from youngest to oldest. The government eventually stepped in and took the kids. They in fact had a special court order that any hospital in the area had to call them when one of them was born. The kids are now spread all across Staten Island. They’re all retarteds and useless to society.

It’s not like they ALL don’t try. One tried to join the army but failed the entrance exam. Another works at the coffee shop across the street from me. And by “works” I mean that sometimes she blows the Albanian drug dealers in the back room for free meth. But at least that’s something, yaknow? I’ll give points for working within your means.

I remember their house… It was up the block from me. Just remember that I live in a semi-suburban area of New York City… Not Detroit or Alabama or nuthin..

The front door was missing a hinge. When they’d open it it’d swing in all sorts of weird directions. Like a palsy patient. Only it’s a door. Not some poor schmuck.

They had actual cardboard in the windows. There was a PILE of tires in the yard. They even had a piece of plywood crookedly and precariously nailed to cover a hole in the wall.

Eventually the house burned down. Nobody was in there. Or at least, nobody of any significance. I mean, they MIGHT have had a kid or two in cages. You know.. the ones that are too deformed and weird and psycho to live amongst society. Like the creatures from any cannibal horror move where there’s hillbillies and inbreeding and stuff…

I’m pretty sure they were there. At night? I could swear I heard howling ….