Schmear Tactics

Oh, the misrepresented story masquerading as news is back again. This time, it's in the form of a crazy woman (who sounds like a completely pain in the ass) at Starbucks. Well, she was at Starbucks. That is, until she started screaming like a banshee because she wouldn't "order correctly". Whatever.

According to the pithy folks over there at the NY Post, a one self-proclaimed stickler for correct English, Lynne Rosenthal, went to a Manhattan Starbucks the other day and ordered herself a plain, toasted, multigrain bagel. She kind of flipped out a little bit when the employee (called a 'barista' by Starbucks because they have invented their own language over there) asked her a question. I'm sure you're wondering what sort of question could be so offensive that it would cause someone to flip their lid. You'd better be sitting down. That's right. Are you sitting? OK, good. Because I'd hate to have you standing up when you learn that the barista asked her, "Do you want butter or cheese?" Wait. What?

Look, I understand her annoyance with this sort of thing. If you say you want something plain, you want something plain. I get that. (I actually had an experience once of ordering a 'plain cheeseburger' at a fast food drive thru. I received a piece of meat between the bun. NO cheese. When I mentioned that they forgot my cheese, they said that I ordered it that way because I said 'plain'. I tried to point out that it was a cheeseburger, but I was greeted with that doe in the headlights look that seems to afflict most fast food workers.) If she wanted butter or cheese, I'm sure she would have said that she wanted butter or cheese. But she said plain. Plain, as the word itself indicates, means just that. Plain. Alone. Without anything else. But at Starbucks, that sort of logic is kind of lost. That's why they asked her if she wanted butter or cheese.

Her explanation for her dislike of this question went something like this: " I just wanted a multigrain bagel...I refused to say 'without butter or cheese.' When you go to Burger King, you don't have to list the six things you don't want. Linguistically, it's stupid, and I'm a stickler for correct English." Translation: I felt like being a pain in the ass that day.

And that's not the only day that she felt like being a pain in the ass. She admitted that she doesn't use vernacular such as"tall" or a "venti". "Instead, she insists on making a pest of herself by ordering a "small" or "large" cup of joe." OK, so she's on a completely pointless, one-woman mission. How's that working out for you over there, cupcake?

But what annoyed me about this whole story was how it was presented. The folks over at something called DNAinfo went with the headline "English Prof Claims Starbucks Booted Her For Ordering 'Incorrectly'." Yeah, that's not what happened at all. After she refused to answer that she did not want butter OR cheese on her PLAIN multigrain bagel (duh), the moronic barista couldn't get it through her head that PLAIN meant no, she did not want butter and/or cheese. Therefore, the barista wouldn't/couldn't fill her order. That's when Ms. Rosenthal began yelling. That's right. Yelling. Yelling, "I want my multigrain bagel!"

It may or may not surprise you that right about then is when the manager called the cops. One of the employees added a little bit more to the equation when she said that the woman refused to answer AND "She called [the barista] an a- -hole." Oh, there it is. Nice.

But of course, Ms. Rosenthal complained that "It was very humiliating to be thrown out, and all I did was ask for a bagel." You twit. All you did was NOT ask for a bagel. What you did was make an ass out of yourself by yelling like a Neanderthal and calling people a-holes. That's not just asking for a bagel.

The NY Post reports that Ms. Rosenthal claims to have a Ph.D. from Columbia and is an English professor. Of course, we're just supposed to take this crazy woman's word for that, as there was no follow-up by any media agency "reporting" on this incident. You can tell the media anything and it's highly unlikely that they're going to try to find out if it's true. All they want to know about is what kind of a freaking bagel she ordered. They managed to get that in the story several times. Whatever.

I have several problems with this woman. One, if she hates Starbucks and the way that they do things so freaking much, why does she continue to go there? Because she's one of those people who likes to be a pain in the ass under the guise of "making a point". And two, she's in freaking New York and she goes to Starbucks for a bagel?! Is she insane?! Of all of the authentic places in New York that you can get a bagel, she chooses Starbucks? Obviously, I was right. She's cuckoo.

Large As A Barge

Everyone needs to have a goal, right? Sure. That explains why a woman in New Jersey in on a quest to become the world's fattest woman. Weight. Wait. What now?

Correct. The world's fattest woman. That's a goal. And let me tell you, PT Barnum is spinning in his grave right about now. Meet Donna Simpson and her table full of food that will kill you. Behold!

I'm loving the red tablecloth. As if that is going to make this massive McDonald's buffet for one somehow seem more elegant. (It's not, by the way.) Ms. Simpson is aspiring to become the world's fattest woman. She's definitely already sealed her place as the world's most ill-intentioned woman, but let's just see where she's headed with this other goal of hers, shall we?

Currently, Ms. Simpson is enormous. She is tipping the scales (probably at the truck stop) at an incredible 550 pounds. Now, granted, I wrote this last night, so she's gotta be at least 555 or 560 by now from what I can tell. According to Guinness, she is the heaviest woman to have ever given birth. (Mind you, Guinness only follows these records for humans, otherwise it might be a jowel to jowel race between her and a blue whale.) But that's not "good" enough for her. No, she wants to completely eat up the competition (literally, I fear) and become the world's fattest woman. That's her goal. To be really, really fat. Um, OK?

No. No, it's not OK. It's not OK on several levels. First of all. Look at this woman. Look! Behold!

That's not good. That's not good for anyone. It's not good for her. It's not good for that scooter. It's not good for anyone wanting to get past her. It's all bad. Bad, I tell you. Bad. Aside from all of that wrongness, can you come up with one argument against my stating that I believe her to be mentally ill? Who does something like that? Someone with a mental problem, that is correct.

Ms. Simpson (why is it so hard for me to use the term "Ms" with this woman? Then again, why is it so difficult for me to use the term "woman" with this woman?) has a boyfriend and two children by said boyfriend. The boyfriend, a one Phillippe Gouamba, must be equally mentally ill, as she claims that he is a "belly man" and that encourages her weight gain. However, I have noticed that in all of the interviews with her and all of the article written about her, that he is never directly quoted. I don't know if he is able to speak for himself. Perhaps she ate him in her quest for to be the largest female ever. But we never hear directly from him, so keep that in mind.

I'm sure her children are just beaming with pride over this. They're definitely thinking of all of the things that they'll be able to get away with, considering that their mother can't go more than twenty feet without becoming winded. Thus, she uses a motorized scooter to get around most of the time. (Who makes a scooter than can carry that sort of a load? I'm guessing that they must be the same company that makes those indestructible black boxes on airplanes.) Let's take a gander at the happy family, shall we? Behold!

Um, OK then. Is her son a cartoon? He looks like Nipsey Russell on crack. What's up with that? Look, I realize that I shouldn't be mocking the children. This will probably be the last time that I do so. But really, I feel sorry for them because they're going to go the majority of their life without a mother as I'm sure that she will meet an early demise due to what she is doing to her body. Of course, that's just my opinion. Ms. Simpson, I'm sure it won't surprise you to learn, doesn't believe that extra weight has anything to do with health problems. OK, then. Good luck with that.

Say, are you moving around OK there, ma'am? You know, people that do not weigh as much as a blue ribbon heifer at the country fair are actually able to walk more than twenty feet under their own power. You know, people that do not have the girth of an airplane hangar don't need a motorized scooter to facilitate their own mobility. I'm thinking your ridiculous weight does impact your health. It certainly impacts your lifestyle.

Whenever I hear these stories of people that are really pushing the limits of what the human skin can contain, I always wanted to know one thing. How in the world are they paying for all of this food? That was the question that I thought that I wanted to know. I learned today that while I thought that I wanted to know, I really did not. I did not want to know. That's because I learned that Ms. Simpson pays for her average $750 weekly grocery bill by receiving payments on her website from people who fork over their cash for the "privilege" of watching her eat. Oh. My. God.

I've always said that if there is one thing that the Internet is good at, it is that is makes it so that whoever you are and whatever you're into, you know that you are not alone in this world. Clearly, if Ms. Simpson is making AT LEAST $750 a week from weirdos out there who want to PAY cash money (legal tender, for cryin' out loud!) to watch her eat, there is someone out there that can relate to you no matter what you're into. Then again, I pay money to go to the zoo. That doesn't mean that I'm turned on by the animals. All that means is that I find them fascinating to watch. I'm going to hope that the folks whole are paying money to watch this cuckoo bird eat are in the same category as folks who go to the zoo.

As I cannot fathom what this woman is actually thinking, I'm going to have to speculate wildly and assume that she is hoping for some kind of fame that would come along with being the world's fattest woman. After all, Manuel Uribe, the world's fattest man, has himself a TV show. Yeah, the last time that I watched that, it was essentially a documentary on how to wash a fat man. (It's just what it sounds like. It's a huge ordeal, it takes hours and yes, it does involve a rag on a stick.) But before you go all thinking how great it would be to have your own TV show, let's just remember that a) your show is called "World's Fattest Man", and b) you're the world's fattest man! Also, Manuel Uribe hasn't left his bed under his own power for at least seven years. (He did get married a couple of years ago, but he was on the back of a flatbed truck. You decide how you feel about that.)

This woman clearly has issues. She seems to have some sort of a desire to be loved and/or wanted by the masses (not being her own, of course) . I'm not quite sure if she realizes that, by going public with her "goal" to be the world's fattest woman, she will undoubtedly receive attention that will be less than what I'd call positive. Of course, she will blow that off as a hatred of fat people (which it's not). Has she thought about the fact that she has a 3-year old daughter that she can't keep up with at 550 (or 555 or 560) pounds and that she'll likely be bedridden at 1,000 pounds? Apparently not. She doesn't seem to be able to think past her next 27 orders at McDonald's. It's hard to know what to hope for here. The obvious thing would be that she comes to her senses and applies for The Biggest Loser. But since that's not going to happen anytime soon, do I hope that she doesn't croak it before she makes it to 1,000 pounds? I guess I do, but I'm open to options. It's just too bad that she isn't.

And to see Ms. Simpson in all of her glory, click here. But let me just warn you first, it's NOT pretty! You might want to have some eye bleach handy. No one warned me! Consider yourself appropriately warned. It's too late for me, but you might be able to save yourself if you know what you're in for.