My shitlord origin story All righty, FPH, gather round and listen to the story that brought me out of lurking and into the circle of hatred for fats. This may be a bit long. It all starts on a cold, blustery, fall night, when I was at rehearsal for a play. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a smallfat (she--it?--was in tech, aka backstage crew) working at the soundboard. Dismayed, I reluctantly approached her, because I had to have a mic on me and we couldn't do it ourselves...for some reason. Just some background info. I'm 6', 156 pounds, working on my verification (I'm submitting the picture as of my writing this), and I really, really hate anyone who refuses to help themselves. Fats fit beautifully into this category, unlike anything else. So what does this she-hog do when I go up to get my mic on? Why, slap my ass, of course, because that's the quickest way to a man's heart, obviously! Surprised, I say, "What the hell was that for?" Its response? A wink. This fucking cow, this sub-human, this idiot, this incoherent butterball thought it could touch me and let it slide like Twinkies down her throat. Seething, I took the mic and the transmitter and put it on myself. Oh, but my dear friends, this was not by any means the end of the story. Not even one bit. I wish it was, but there were other things on Miss Piggy's mind. So what does she do? She gets one of her friends (don't know how anyone puts up with her) to tell me that there was more to a person than what's on the outside. To tell me that she was suicidal, thought I liked her back, and might hurt herself if I rejected her. I don't think there's any debate that this is literally the opposite of how to attract someone, but oh well. The friend then tells me that she gave Shamu my number. I just stand there, silently raging for about three seconds before I explode and tell her that was the stupidest thing to ever do, ever.  And the story goes on. Later that night, after rehearsal, I get a text. And who other than everyone's favorite slutty sphere decided to send it? She explained, in a rambling message, that she really liked me and that she thought I was amazing, and sexy (barf), and perfect for her. When I flatly denied her, she then tried to convey her whale tears to me in the form of another desperate attempt to have me. I haven't responded to that one yet, and never will.  I hate that hams are so entitled that they just think they can do what they want and not go through any consequences. I doubt this'll be the last story I have to share, but here's to a long, healthy (heh) hatred of fats, dear friends!