Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I am about to present to you a clear-cut case of manipulation, a crime so heinous you may lose sleep over it, but I beg of you, when you are tossing and turning from the thought of this wrongdoing, please do not stumble into the kitchen to make yourself a pie, because that’s exactly what the defendant would want you to do.
Ladies and gentlemen, I will show each and every one of you through eyewitness testimony that the defendant, Mr. Superdumbface, a.k.a HotMom72, is not only a terrible influence on society at large, but has committed a crime so vile that it will probably one day be featured on Lifetime.
Mr. Superdumbface is trying to make me fat.
Your honor, if it pleases the court I’d like to present my first piece of testimony: he gets me high. A lot.
Now, I am a grown man and I have the ability to rise above peer pressure. But when you have another grown man mocking you, fake crying and calling you a baby, essentially challenging the “I’m a fun guy” reputation you’ve been working on since those lonely high school days, you tend to give in and get high.
This moves us on to Exhibit B. In this bag I hold not one, but two blahg entries dating back to April 27th of 2011, where our hero, me, chronicled the misdeeds of the defendant. These stories, ladies and gentleman, establish a pattern in the Mr. Superdumbface’s behavior, where he has repeatedly suggested we get food and the eateries he floats by my hungry mind are of the unhealthy variety.
“OBJECTION! The Defense would like to file a motion to bar this evidence. It is inadmissible due to its blatant prejudicial nature.”
Objection?! Who the fuck are you and why are you writing in my blahg?
“The accused is my client. I am his attorney.”
Oh, well shut up then.
“Of all the fucking cases to preside over, I get put on this one? The motion is denied.”
Thank you, your honor. Anyway, where was I?
“Wait, why would the defendant try to make you fat?”
Thank you for asking Juror number 4 (you have great personality by the way!). Well ma’am and all that have gathered here to witness this trial, his reasoning is quite simple: He strives to look better than me. He has noticed that since last August I have lost 30 lbs and he is threatened by this. Someday we will stand side-by-side before a beautiful woman with a great smile and personality that you just can’t stop thinking about, personality that you just want to caress and squeeze and pinch gently and maybe bury your face in between (Breasts. I’m trying to get at breasts here), and when we stand in front of her, if I am looking rather swollen, showing a triple chin because I can’t stop looking down at her personality, she will pick him. Or so the defendant hopes.
This is not a conclusion I came to easily. No, let the record show that it is incredibly difficult to come to any conclusion when you’re high. I arrived at this point by watching his behavior, listening to his words, and eating a lot of fatty food at his behest.
But what really made the light bulb go on is when, last weekend, he so casually and nonchalantly stopped on the Food Network while flipping through channels on the telly.
Yup, of all the 62 channels to choose from: the X-Games on ESPN, the 2nd Matrix on TNT, Bob The Builder on Nick Jr., he picks the one channel that will without-a-doubt unleash the blind, insatiable appetite of The Beast.
When this occurred, this tiny slip in his plan, I started to replay instances from the past:
I have never heard the defendant utter a phrase like, “How about we split a rice cake or go buy some apples from Whole Foods?” No, ladies and gentleman! His script reads, “Dude, let’s go to Taco Bell.” or, “Alright, here’s the plan. We go to the grocery store, get some ice cream Snicker bars and a pizza, eat a one of the Snickers in the car, come back and start cooking the pizza, smoke a little more, eat another Snickers bar while the pizza is cooking, play some Nintendo Punch-Out, cut the pizza, eat another Snickers bar while the pizza is cooling, and then eat the pizza.” Dairy Queen. Sonic. McDonald’s. All of the sodium rich, carb loaded, moment-on-the-lips-straight-to-the-hips deliciousness our great nation was founded on have all been dangled in front of me by the defendant on numerous occasions in attempts to plump me back up.
I also find it very convenient that whenever the accused and I make high trips through the super market he always seems to lead me down the junk food isles, causing me to sweat profusely. If the defendant wasn’t trying to burst my belt buckle then why wouldn’t he stick to isles like the cleaning isle or the magazine isle?
“Probably because you’d try to drink some Windex thinking it was Gatorade or eat a “Gourmet” magazine because there’s a pie on the front.”
Your honor, would you please ask the Defense to stop interrupting me? It is, afterall, my blahg.
“Stop interrupting the Prosecution. It is his blahg.”
Thank you, your honor. So, ladies and gentlemen, with the evidence I’ve mentioned above, I predict a swift conviction.
…
“The Defense calls the Prosecution to the stand.”
*Gasps.*
“First of all, may I say you look dashing today in that three-piece suit?”
Why yes you can and thank you.
“No, thank you! You clearly have an unrivaled sense of style that should be respected and praised. And man oh man are you sexy!”
Well you have great personality.
“Thank you. Will you please state your name for the record?”
No. This is an anonymous blog, so no I will not state my name for the record.
“Oh, right. When you came up with this elaborate conspiracy deeming my client some sort of monster, were you high?”
Yes.
“Have you ever, in the short time you’ve been smoking marijuana cigarettes, felt paranoid?”
Yes, but—
“Just answer the question!”
Yes.
“Is it possible that your mind generated this entire plot, this conspiracy against my client, due to your paranoia.”
*A long pause and silence falls over the courtroom.*
Yes. It is possible.
***GASPS!***
“The Defense rests, your honor.”
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