Sunday, October 28, 2007

Ass Fatties

I'm always trying to expand my horizons and learn new things. You may know this about me already. And what is the point of knowledge or wisdom if it is not shared? So in the spirit of enlightenment I give you the new vocabulary word I learned this weekend from my poor dear old best friend Amy. I'm pretty sure she made it up, but I'm hoping that it will catch on.

Typical of me it is not what you may think it is and comes with a long-winded back story. Skip to the end if you can't commit. I have highlighted the good part in red for the skippers among you. And by the way - it's totally disgusting and you may be better off not knowing.

Amy has recently remarried happily to a lovely man who adores her completely and of whom MDH and I wholly approve. We'll call him Ted. Prior to this marriage, Amy and her young daughter, who we'll call Little Baby Lion (LBL for short), have lived for the last 2 years alone in girlish bliss. Toilet seats permanently in the down position and tidy, tidy, tidy.

Prior to that they lived with her now ex-husband Assface, who was an anal retentive, overly tidy and organized son of a cunt. The toilet seats were permanently down and all about the house tidy, tidy, tidy. In fact their home was never tidied to Assface's full satisfaction so when she had had all of the bullshit and anal retentiveness she could take, Amy and young LBL moved out.

I don't mean to trivialize her divorce. There were a hundred more reasons for the split besides his aggressive disapproval of her cleaning style. We don't need to get into them here. At least not today. I'm being kind by describing Assface as a son of a cunt.

When Amy married Ted this past June she and young LBL moved into his house with his 2 teenage boys, M is 13 and K is 15. The three males had been living alone together without female supervision for a very long time. The way that men who were raised by women who wait on them hand and foot and their subsequent progeny is very different from the way that my dear Amy (and me too by the way) had been living for her entire life. The boys lived like little piggies and Amy has had to swoop in and the muck the stalls out, so to speak before it was fit for her and LBL to live in.

I walked into the newly blended family's home for the first time on Saturday night ready for anything after the nightmare stories she had been telling me since moving there in June. A pantry full of books and papers and several years worth of greasy stalactites growing from the roof of the microwave, just to name a few. To my surprise I found the house looking and smelling totally fresh and fine. In fact her stylish furniture and decor makes the place look great.

She said now that the house is clean and organized she's working on new behaviors for all the boys, Ted included. She described it as living with 3 people who don't have any fingers or fine motor skills. Paws for hands, if you will. Objects are dropped, thrown and left to rot. Coats are tossed on top of other coats hanging neatly in closets, or thrown onto the closet floor. Wet, sweaty clothes removed and left mouldering on the carpet or sofa. Wet washcloths wadded into moldy balls. The list of disgusting boy habits goes on and on.

As she was describing her new lifestyle as wife and stepmother she suddenly blurted out, "and don't get me started on the ass fatties", and then she answered her chiming cell phone, leaving me in suspense for about 6 minutes while she chatted.

When she got off the phone I was nearly bursting into flames. What the fuck is an "ass fattie"? Don't leave me hanging like this please, please, please.

An "ass fattie" is the nickname that Amy has given to the errant pieces of toilet paper that get rolled into marijuana-cigarette shaped tubes from aggressive paw like ass wiping. Certain brands of toilet paper, such as Charmin or White Cloud, increase the likelihood of the occurrence of ass fatties.

I should qualify here that she has no issues with the ass fatties as such, and in fact acknowledges having experienced them on occasion herself. (I have no comment and wish to plead the 5th.) She does however take great offense to having to pick other peoples ass fatties up off of the bathroom floor.

Her argument is persuasive and I too now believe that one should be aware of the existence of one's own ass fatties and dispose of them properly before they are seen by your stepmother.

10 comments:

Family Adventure said...

[Trying to suppress laughter so as not to wake up the entire household already sound asleep here here in Norway]

...ASS FATTIES!? Your friend Amy nailed it. And your description brought it home - I KNOW what ass fatties are.
I live with only boys and was in fact planning a little post (vent) about toilet manners...But I'm pretty sure I could not top ASS FATTIES. Ever.

And I'm happy that she got rid of the other Ass...

Thanks for yet another laugh!

Heidi :)

The Lady Who Doesn't Lunch: said...

Hey Heidi - I'm so pleased you liked my disgusting post! I even used the c-word.

Amy is possibly the funniest person I have ever known.

Churlita said...

I'm not sure I wanted to know what an ass fatty was. Now that I know, it's kind of okay.

The Lady Who Doesn't Lunch: said...

Churlita - you probably have no reason to know this information except maybe for future reference if you are ever given a grandson.

Tom the Pooklekufr said...

My friend, before his wedding, had to go a week without seeing his fiancee (imagine the daughter of Mary Poppins and Albert Schweitzer).

Flash to the morning of the wedding. A friend and I went over to wake him up and get him ready.

Within one single week without a woman around the house, he had devolved into an ape. The formerly neat house had turned into a riot of dirty dishes and clothes. Cigarette butts were piled into every available receptacle. He had been playing Audioslave's "Things That I Love" on a neverending loop. He was unshaven, wearing a stained white undershirt and boxers, and obviously had lived off nothing but gefilte fish and coffee the entire time.

It took my friend and I two hours to clean up the place.

A couple monthes later when I helped them move, his wife unpacked and arranged every single scrap of stuff into a presentable home within half an hour.

Women truly keep us men from descending into slugs.

pistols at dawn said...

I think it's telling that your tale of the marriages and divorce centered around bathroom cleaning habits.

We won't clean them because we know you will. Until the grime gets together, stands up while we're on the can, and tells us it'll just clean itself, we're not paying attention.

The Lady Who Doesn't Lunch: said...

Pook - Great story and thanks sharing! I know that not all guys are like this - my very own Alan is not a pig or I probably would not have married him. He is useless in the kitchen, but he does his own laundry and when I was traveling full time the house was usually cleaner than how I left it when I came home. I'm the real slob in the family.

Your mention of cigarette butts is causing a huge morning jones as I sip my coffee.

Pistols - I have 4 words for you friend - or maybe 3 - or 2 and one hyphenated word. Fuck it.
Clorox Bleach Drop-Ins

They keep your toity spic and span and all you have to do is remember to put a new one in your tank every month or so. You can set a Yahoo reminder for that.

Tara said...

I tried to guess while reading through your blog posting what an ass fatty was, but was totally clueless until I read the truth. Wow, that's gross. Lol. Scott Tissue doesn't do that, maybe they should switch. :D

cooper green said...

The second most disgusting image you left in my brain was the mechanics behind ass fatty production. I provided my own most disgusting image, and that's the accidental smoking of these things.

Leonesse said...

Oh, dear lord. Please tell Amy that I feel for her. And... it isn't going to end. Nope. Never. They will walk over a piece of their own garbage 37 times and not pick it up. Please tell her to save her sanity and expect it to be until they are off on their own before her bathroom will ever be clean again. Or at least from the time it is cleaned until they get home.