Plight of the Plump and Their Place at the Bottom of the Barrel

*sigh*

I don't enjoy being cruel for no reason.

I like to reserve it for those who rightly deserve to suffer under its caustic acidic sting for all eternity, or at least until I walk away.

Having said that meet Chris.

Now, I did nothing to this man.

I simply logged on and after hours spent doing something else finally checked my messages.

Lo and behold some fat ass sent me a smile.

So I blocked him because, ew.

He's fat and his profile is so tragically presumptuous I just couldn't bare to look at it anymore.

Also note the background.

I won't say where I work but he and I share the same employer.

Even if he weren't the Moby Dick of front desk clerks, and I was feeling exceptionally Ahab today, ready to shoot holes through anything I deigned oafish enough to require a spear gun to fix, I still don't shit where I eat. 

he's angry because these men clearly did not read up on his sexual preference for latino's so fuck them right to the bottom of the ocean is what

Or date co-workers.

He proceeds to send me messages from a different profile telling me what a stuck up, selfish, pretentious, asshole I am and how dare I block him just for sending me a smile and what is so wrong with me that I cannot return the simple courtesy of a fucking smile and blah, blah, blah schmackity blah.

So now he get's to experience the special honor of being on my BOTB list.

YAY!

Starting with his job, which he summarizes by stating boldly "I have one", let me just share with you an industry secret; you could be a rotting pile of festering ass meat and still perform the functions of a front desk clerk while still, probably, making less mistakes.

These people are not hired or paid based on any kind of education but simply by how well their flesh holds up against the inevitable decay locked hand in hand with the endless march of time.

note the freshness of this ass meat, it's not yet ready to perform the dubious task of "checking you in"

Above this we see his "stats."

Versatile?

Really?

When's the last time you even saw your penis, let alone for long enough to take the seven inch measurement you have in the same section?

What sort of mental, spiritual, and or emotional acrobatics is a person supposed to perform in order to actually get their asshole close enough to your penis to have anal intercourse?

This is a physical impossibility, I feel certain, and I must chalk this measurement and choice of preference up to sheer guess work, which is, I also feel certain, how people this size must deduce a large number of physical "facts" about their person.

Above this we can see he is out but does not smoke, drink or do drugs.

I imagine this is because his doctors have advised him to partake of any of these activities for more than a few seconds would result in instant death since his poor body is already so grossly overburdened by fat.

Then we come to the gem that is his "bio."

Really?

Obviously you can't handle rejection because when I did not immediately smile back at you via the infernal blinking speak of computer code you became an enraged asshole.

WHY DON'T YOU LOVE ME YET!?!?!?!

And how is it you came to form these "preferences" of which you speak?

Have you ever had sex?

Ever?

And the couch cushions in your mothers basement do not count.

Ever.

Welcome to the barrel Chris.

Be a dear and fill in that large asshole shaped hole at the bottom will you?