Tag Archives: I endorse low fat everything

I am a snooty shop assistant

Hi! How may I help you?

… Is what I would say if I wasn’t too busy being a bitch to give a damn

Listen lady, I know you think you have a right to walk into my store and peruse my damn merchandise, but you don’t. I spent all of five minutes flat-packing that pile of cashmere tights and you’re just disturbing my hard work with your indecisiveness. Don’t you know how chunky you are? The only way you’d look good in cashmere is if you used the paper bag as a headdress and threw yourself off a cliff.

I do not deem you worthy.

And what makes you think you can afford this stuff anyway? This kind of tailoring combined with this fabric… Oh wait, here’s my manager. Crap… say something helpful… shit shit. YES!

“That dress is STUNNING, why don’t you try it on? Sure, I’ll watch your Mr Price bags, don’t worry!”

Cue fake smile. Hold for 15 seconds. Make sure manager has watched demonstration. De-commencing forced niceties in 5… 4… 3… 2…

I bet that dress would look frumpy on you. I practically made sure of it by sending you to the changing room with the fat-adding mirror. Please, don’t bother asking me how it works, this is very technical stuff.

Can I help you find the right size? Not a fuck! Is it on the rack? Is it on the pile? No? THAT’S BECAUSE IT ISN’T HERE! It’s probably in the back somewhere and I’m too lazy to get it for you. I won’t even bother mentioning that I can order it from another branch because looking at the computer would mean I have to stop looking at you with my bitch-face on.

Oh! Have you chosen something? After 20 minutes in this store I damn well hope so. No, the red sticker does not mean that this item is on sale, I just put it there to mess with you. Haha!

As I fold your purchases, longingly… lovingly. I will say goodbye to the sweet lace dress I imagined would be mine. I’m sorry I have to send you away with this cretin, dress. Just know that I will miss you. *Sniff

So what if you have a real job and this dress is worth more than I will make in a month? I have something you will never have: The secret of the fat-adding mirror and the ability to spot a nada from a Prada!

You have a lovely day now. I’ll enjoy bitching about you when I’m on lunch with my friend that works at the MAC counter.

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People love me.

So I write one blog about a famous person and suddenly I’m more popular than Paris Hilton after she flashed her girl bits at poor photographers.

Funny that.

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A picture is worth 1000 words. This blog is worth 1325 words. Pending advertisements.

Sometimes my brother is very clever and does nice things like this:

Ignore the Land Rover. He did this using a wicked ‘leaving the shutter open for 40 seconds’ trick, two sparkles, and a helper. A helper I shall not name because he’s actually a (somewhat) famous person that makes nice doof doof songs and he’s family and I don’t want people to think I’m being ‘indian’ by endorsing him. That doesn’t make any financial sense.

On wednesday, out of the blue, the brother mentions that he came up with a totally brilliant and original idea that could change the world or something momentous like that. He made it seem so blase, like it was one of those things that happen to him daily. I stared at him in awe, nodding my head at the moments when it seemed appropriate. To be honest, I don’t think I understood most of what he said, programming jargon only made sense to me when I was 17 and thought that I’d take on a life as a hacker like Mr Anderson from The Matrix before he died and became Neo. See, he’s sometimes clever this brother of mine. Clever in ways which I am not.

In short: I’m jealous. I don’t have it in me to come up with visually/artistically/conceptually brilliant ideas. I’m only good with adding numbers and looking like a vaguely attractive person and talking about nonsense and phrasing sentences with the flair of a bull fighter finesse of an orchestrator… GAH!

Well not jealous per say… maybe a ‘pinch of salt’ jealous, unless he gets famous and stuff, then it could be ‘a pinch of salt in an old wound’ jealous. Unless he buys me a car of my choosing then I’ll love him forever 😀

Not that I won’t love him forever, just saying.

P.S: Damian, you owe me one trillion dollars for advertising your shit on my blog. Thanks.

Either way, I’m still getting a car of my choosing 😀

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Chocolate is the devil, that is why I love it.

When I was younger (around two years ago) I used to be sexy like Spock. I had these rock-like abs and legs that would make any woman dissolve in the acidity of her envy. That was before I started my career as a sometimes productive corporate monkey…

Now I’m only half as hot and totally unfit. The other day I took on the bold task of giving Mojo a bath. Not entirely the most genius of ideas, but I was getting bored of watching cartoons at 8:30 in the morning. Boy, was I in for a surprise. Not only did I spend +1 hour running after the little guy, but I did it with the gusto only an Olympic champion should possess.

Oh the pain… the sheer agony.

The next morning I woke up with the most excruciatingly sore thighs. I must have torn some muscle tissue. Not to mention the fact that I have to make myself pretty for work and wear these high pointy heels (because I’m a small person and small people need help) and walk around in them. So there I am, traipsing around like an old person, trying to look cool when all I really want to do is find a  semi-shaded spot to wallow in my self neglect.

That is when it dawned on me, I’m becoming one of those deluded people I despise so much. I have pretensia [An illness whereby the infected person pretends that things are a certain way, when in fact, they are not]. This blog is a written promise to myself to never get fat like Britney, because she too was hot once and now she’s just ‘meh’. I can’t be ‘meh’. Its not like I have buckets of sparkling personality to sustain me. One day, all this sarcastic venom that I spit out will lose its attractiveness. I need to have something else to fall back on. I need to be superficial for once (haha).

I need to *sniffle* give up chocolate.

I hereby solemnly swear that from the very moment this blog is viewable by public, I shall be a good girl and eat rabbit food (even though it tastes like cardboard). In addition, I shall come up with (and stick to) a regular exercise routine.

I am not destined to be a fat lady with a million cats.

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