Butterbarge bitches brigade bakery for buns. (Say that five times fast!) Near my house is a small, Oriental bakery. This bakery is run by a hardworking elderly couple. Recently, they started making "sweet rum buns", and advertising in their front window. My shitlady friend and I decided to stop in and try one this morning. Easy peasy, no problems right?  Oh fucking contraire. Apparently, these buns were extremely popular with people, and it caused a bit of a stampede to get them early every day. Wanting to keep things fair and moving along, the couple had imposed a "half dozen buns max per customer" rule. No big deal right? These things were the size of your hand and covered with rum glaze. Who would possibly need that many? Dun dun dunnn... This rule had not gone over well with the porky community. So this morning,(of all goddamn mornings of course) a dozen sweating lardladies decided to host some kind of "sit-in" at the bakery to protest this "sizeism". I know this, Because it said so on their hideously stretched shirts.  Now unfortunately, this bakery is about the size of a gas station bathroom, with 2 chairs and a small table in the corner next to a cold beverage case. So because there was only 2 chairs(that were occupied by the largest deathfats physically standing that I have ever seen in my goddamn life) the rest were forced to stand. The smell was overpowering. Like sour, b.o, queefy cheese drifting from their swollen betus bods. And they were DRIPPING sweat (I accidentally touched ones swollen arm as I squeezed past).were so red, I feared for the safety of the floor if one of them cratered. They talk-screamed loudly about something in their native fat tongue that I couldn't hone in on, but did notice the shitty gaze I got for daring to enter their house of worship. It really was unusually warm inside for such a beautiful day. I braved the counter, reaching the small Asian man behind it, who, despite the heat and hippos, was grinning happily.  After small talk whilst giving me my bun and two waters, I mentioned the heat must be broken.  He laughed and said with the shitlordiest chuckle "They come, I turn up heat, they leave. Gone one hour. Next time I hide chairs"  And wouldn't you know it, the fatties were gathering their massive purses from the table and trotting out as we spoke.  I stuffed a twenty in his tip can for doing the Lord's work :p