About Me Monday #2

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Today's About Me Monday is actually about my late maternal grandmother.
The following is a response to this post on We Hunted The Mammoth in which one belligerent brain trust of an "incel" stated that he likes to body-slam bitches who dare to look at him while he's walking past. Several people called bullshit. One said he probably reserves his tough guy act for vulnerable girls in their early teens and elderly women with canes.
These were my thoughts on the matter.
RE: the "body slammer" and elderly women with canes

Just remembering my late maternal grandmother. She would have taken up her cane and whaled on his ass. Where my grandmother went to school, they had outhouses, and there was a knothole in one side of the girl's outhouse. There was a boy who would stick his John Thomas through the knothole to make the girls scream.

One day my grandmother was in the outhouse when he decided to do his thing. She whacked old J.T. smack on the head with a ruler. The exhibitionistic young fellow ran off screaming and never introduced John Thomas into the girls' outhouse again.

My grandmother was raised as a fire-and-brimstone Baptist Christian, but she was no stranger to raising some hell when it was called for.

For those who are wondering, "incel" is code for "Involuntary Celibate." These assholes like to blame everything (particularly women) for their inability to get laid. They refuse to look at the fact that being belligerent sociopathic shits who badmouth everyone is what prevents them from getting laid. When you refer to women as "foids" (short for Femoid), your own mother as a used-up slut who rode the cock carousel for years before finally settling for your beta cuck father, and spend your time staring at your sister's "Chad" of a boyfriend with lust--excuse me, I mean glowering at him intimidatingly--you need look no further than yourself for why no-one wants you around. And no, it isn't because you aren't a "Chad." (In incel-speak, Chad is code for a hunky white guy, usually blond. Hunky black guys are Tyrone.) It's because you have the personality of a compost heap.

Feel free to share a link to a post about you or a cool relative of yours on the Mister Linky!

~Cie~

The Cheese Grates It: Hamplanets at TGI Friday's

This was a response to a post at We Hunted The Mammoth

Wherein blog author David Futrelle shared (and mocked) the words of an epic jackwagon from the Red Pill sector of Reddit, who stated:

"I watched hamplanets glitter in the dark near the TGIFridays."

There are hamplanets glittering by the TGI Friday's? Wow! Cool! I'll have to drive by the TGI Friday's and see if there are any hamplanets there. I've heard of these hamplanets, but I've never seen one. If they're glittery, that must be extra special.

I developed an eating disorder when I was 12 years old because I was so paranoid about getting fat. It wasn't because I thought that fat people were bad, it was seeing how fat people were treated. I didn't want to be treated like that. I spent 33 years trying to yo-yo diet myself into a size that my body didn't want to be. Given that my endocrine system is a dumpster fire, it's highly unlikely that I'd ever become thin unless I became critically ill, and maybe not even then. So, I learned to accept my body as it is. 

Unfortunately, our awful medical system doesn't want to allow me to just be as I am, they want to force more diets (which didn't work for 33 years, so I don't know how they're supposed to work now) or stomach amputation on me. This makes for uncomfortable and enraging doctor's appointments, not compassionate medical care. I would never go to a doctor if it weren't for this dumpster fire of an endocrine system.

That being said, I don't have a problem with my weight. For some reason, other people take it upon themselves to have a problem with my weight.

The only way I'd ever be truly ashamed of myself again is if I let one of these douchebros into my pants. And at that point, the shame wouldn't be because of my weight, it would be because I had been incredibly disrespectful of myself and should certainly know better.

~The Cheese Hath Grated It~