... fuck off with the ad for the 'trick of a flat belly' that seems to appear on everything I read on the web? Please? I don't want to know. And I don't want to see the cartoon of the 'Once were fatteriors' of the successfully slim lady in her fat pants stretching the waist out like it's the opening of a fucking tent.
What is it about me that screams to the web 'thar be fat person, arrr' like one of those fanciful creatures in the corner of a ye olde sailor's map?
Are my cookies swollen?
Wait, that makes no sense. A cookie is on my computer. All they get is my ISP. But then ... they can track that, right? It's Minority Report! Oh I hope not. In that movie the ads on the wall addressed Tom Cruise by name as he went past them then tailored themselves to subjects of interest like couches that could take a sudden bout of crazed hot-for-woman exultation. If that happened to me it would be 'fat, fat, diet, fat, bad back, bandaids, fat, fat.'
The future are bastards! (1)
Swollen cookies. That sounds like a tremendously excitingly bad case of hemorrhoids.
(1) Yeah, I know that's wrong. Sounds kewl though.