Do you crave companionship? Do you feel you say just the wrong thing at just the wrong time? Do you want to jam your dick in a woman that could be confused for a manatee, even by a shark? God's only creation known to boast Olympic Golds in Whale Detection and Murder? [While we're on the subject, seriously, fuck sharks. Why don't people realise they're the Creator's way of saying: "See, this is why I gave you legs. Stay the fuck out of my oceans." Makes you wonder what he's keeping out there. Meth lab probably, how else do you explain Australia?] Anyway, if so, are you in luck! Let's be honest though, you're toasted, you need to get this thing done quick before irreversible chromosomal damage or worse, whiskey dick. To hell with what Science or Religion might say! Those prudish fucks don't know how to have fun anyway! You my friend, are getting laid tonight!
***
You've probably heard that statistically, as a nation, fuck - as a
species, we're getting fatter. But actually finding a woman that you could lose your phone, wallet and keys in is pretty tough. Large women rarely congregate. They're like Will Smith in that film, except instead of drinking scotch in the street and generally acting like a bitchy queen, they do something meaningful with their lives. Like gargling your balls for a packet of Iced Gems.
HANCOCK. That was the film. Seriously, the only thing that could have stopped that movie sucking harder than a Dyson somehow engineered with pornstar DNA, would have been Charlize Theron taking her bra off. Seriously, has Will Smith ever been involved in anything more shameful?
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| Oh, right. |
Even in crowded rooms fat chicks have a knack for blending in (it's a vestigial behaviour from back when they needed to to camouflage themselves in packs of cave-men in order to hunt). A neat trick is to scatter a handful of small objects into the air (carpet tacks usually work well) and see if a prime specimen's gravitational field draws them into orbit. Once you've picked out your chosen cetacean, wade through the school of ladies to reach it - they have a symbiotic relationship, like those birds that clean crocodile teeth for amnesty from a swift, violent death. A lot like that now that I think about it.
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| How's your gag reflex? |
The plus size woman is a notoriously elusive creature, prone to random, crippling attacks of paranoia and easily spooked by strange objects like salad forks and penises. Despite this, they have surprisingly short attention spans, so if you don't keep one constantly focused and engaged, they may forget who you are or wander off into traffic. For that reason it's important to bring a large supply of Ritalin, but disguise them as raisins. Like pheasants, fat chicks go
wild for raisins [NB: if you got that reference, congratulations on having a successful and rewarding childhood]. I've also found a lot of success baiting bear traps with take out Wagamamas.
It's unlikely that you'd have to talk to the creature, in our early stages of evolution, we were too busy doing awesome shit like killing mammoths with sharp rocks, or carving rudimentary pornography on cave walls to invent ear muffs. Naturally, God stepped in (like the gentleman that he clearly is) and fixed things so that the first place you put weight on is the subcutaneous tissue of the inner ear. Obviously, the kind of girl
you're looking for thinks exercise is an archaic form of masturbation. Which is fine, only she couldn't find her G-spot with an oil rig and 2 rows of flood lights. So she hasn't heard anything clearly since her GP told her that 25% of her blood was butter when she was in primary school. If you're going to say anything, remember to focus on a point somewhere above her head so you're not speaking directly into her face, you wouldn't want her to mistake all the tequila on your breath for halitosis. Not that she would know what that is.
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| Knowing what this abomination is would also prove you had a more literary childhood than me. |
It gets pretty simple from here, just slip the bitch some roofies (disguised as raisins remember) and chaperon it back to your godawful apartment or whatever hovel you're currently living/squatting in. Now you've just got to get busy,
gettin' busy. Mixing food with fat sex is a logical fallacy. But nothing is more awesome than fat sex, so if you try to mix it with anything else, no matter how awesome that thing might be (gin, LSD, videogames,
whatever) you are
diluting fat sex. However, it is also dangerous, common injuries include: crushed pelvis, punctured lung and catastrophic internal haemorrhaging. Therefore, it is vitally important to agree on a safe word or phrase that could not be confused for the conventional pillow talk/smack talk/screams of horror that usually accompany intercourse. Some examples of what
not to use are below:
'I... I can't breathe'
'You sure have a lot of orifices'
'OH GOD! MY BONES!'
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