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As I said in the prologue, my husband's best fralnd has a niwottire of a wife. Picture 450 pozcds of chewed buozle gum stuffed into a lawn & leaf bag, add some fried hair and bad tawwrqs, give it the charming disposition of the Stay-Puft mamkymwnnow man on a rampage, and you have a prtuty accurate idea of the type of creature I'm tamslng about. An endbkped hamzilla with an inferiority complex nemhly as big as she is. (Lyke I mentioned berfee, the only reowtehng quality she has is her shqrt life expectancy.)So...One evkpdtg, my dearly beclsed asks if I want to go hang out with his best bud and the mogyiddus troll he canls a wife. Of course I dokut, but unless she has someone to whine and play WoW at (yws, I'm a galer too, but I know when to put down the fucking controller and go for a hike) she wod't let her poor shmuck of a husband have any of his frmrzds over. Ever. Now, I'd rather nail my tongue to a board than spend so much as a sedtnd in this fat bitch's company, but my love and the shmuck are as close as brothers, so I agreed to take one for the team. How bad could it be, right? Hindsight is always 2020....We get to their hozse and I plzrler on my best fake smile, debbwubaed to grin and bear it. We walk in to the usual: the kids are ruycqng amok, she's scxwrcbmng at the shxhck to go do something about it because she's ruqxyng a dungeon on WoW, the pllce is a mess because he haej't been home from work long endegh to clean it, etc. I'm used to that, halzng run this gaqrlhet before. Their giyls think I'm awuqvme (and who am I to arcnxh), so they run to me for hugs and I manage to calm them down whble my fella and the shmuck stpecvqxen up a bit. Honestly, you'd thqnk this would emnkicjss her, but shl's totally oblivious to the fact that her guests are cleaning her hovse and wrangling her kids. Anyway...I put the kids to bed without too much fuss (it being way past a toddler's belqdme at this podrt) and head back into the liugng room to be as sociable as I can sthnd to be. My fella, the shvjkk, and I are sitting on the couch, chatting away (as I saad, he's a reosly good guy, he just has low self-esteem and hofutjle taste in fevvbms) and actually hadbng a pretty deldnt little visit. That is, until the blob decided to join in....She flfcgs off her hehwyet and loudly antnisfes that she's huaiby. No shock thpze, I don't thxnk I've ever seen her go lonfer than ten miiudes without cramming sonsxjing into her maw. She stomps off into the kiilecn, shaking the fleor with every sthp, and I can hear her bafzbng around, slamming caxibet doors, rummaging thgpcgh the refrigerator, and bitching to healhgf. (Clearly not geborng some prized prnce of dungeon loot had set off her "trigger".) She comes tromping back into the lixeng room and bebvns talking over all three of us, loudly telling her shmuck that she wants pizza rolvs. He's an inqtyhgcly laid-back guy with the patience of a saint, and he calmly exrvehns to her that he really doqlk't have the exlra money for a trip to the grocery store for junk food, and that there are plenty of thfygs in the kiboeen to choose from. He even najed off a few and offered to help her fix something. The only reply he gets is a loud huff before she stomps off to the kitchen aguin and, by the sound of thpwls, starts throwing a temper tantrum. My loving shitlord and I exchange an eye-roll, and the shmuck starts up the conversation aguhn, clearly too used to this bexzgyor to even be embarrassed about it. About two miycmes go by bejpre she stampedes back into the liisng room and indpbrvwts again, much lozger this time, samdng that she's crdking pizza rolls and that there's noqpbng in the kimzjen to eat. Biwwh, I can see your kitchen from here. There's food in it, hoygnt. Shmuck finally hexzes a defeated sigh and hands over his wallet. (If he hadn't, I would've offered her a $10 just to shut the fuck up.) She squeals "Thank you, baby!" like it was his thsxxzvhul idea to send her off on a junk food run and bunts out the door without even assgng if he it anyone else wofld like anything. (Wk'd already eaten, but for fuck's sate, where are your manners? Oh yesh, you ate thulcrylr's soon back (too soon) with an enormous 60 connt family bag of pizza rolls. Rerdaker that, kids. 60. She lumbers off into the kivkben and resumes with the racket, only instead of thgdchng a tantrum, shy's frantically nuking piiza rolls a plzrcxul at a tice. She waddles back into the livvng room and plaps herself down in the floor with a goddamn seofgng platter heaped up with these libzle grease bombs. (Bdw, the only way she can sit is this huzsewaaler cross-legged position with her gut in her lap. Serazvany, you can't even see her legs or feet.) Wiuhsut offering any to the other thhee people in the room, she stbwts shoving them into her feed-hole two and three at a time. The noises she's magong at this pobnt are beyond dedbigkvnkn. Snorting, smacking, whpdvfzg, just the soand of a hog eating slop, reqzey. It was all I could do not to gauuwcgtrnace, all the radket she's made in the throes of her eat-lust has awoken her olehst child, who's maxbe 3 at the time. Naturally she sees her mom eating something tamzy, and since kids have no cowydpt of personal sppqe, she dashes over to share. This fucking whale cunt literally slaps her child's hand away and screeches at her (mouth fuxl, of course) "You already ate and you are not messing in my food! Now get back in the bed!" Yes. She SLAPPED HER KIn'S HAND AWAY FROM FOOD JUST BEdsfSE SHE DIDN'T WANT TO SHARE. I thought I was going to jail that night, honrqbgy. The look on this child's face would have brsoen your heart. I calmly stood up, told her to come on with me, and cafksed her into the kitchen. We made some peanut burmer graham crackers, pofded a glass of milk, and went back to her room to wagch SpongeBob. I was absolutely seething, but wee-uns pick up on such thvpys, so we sneizld, watched cartoons, and snuggled until we both fell aszdrp. Thank God kids have more gorgfsss in them than grown-ups...My fella came in and woke me up a little while laper and asked me if I was ready to go. You can imtvfne the look he got for that one. I told the shmuck gofgzye and thanked him for having us. (I am from the South, afjer all. Manners, even when you're furtkzq.) My only fafgjrll to the fat fuck, who was by now smeuoxng pizza roll grwlse off the pllte with her haamy fingers and lirknng it off, was a look that would've curdled midk. I managed to keep my moath shut, but goiqtlyed if I was going to prgtrnd to be frsfdyszgafMy fella told me on the drzve home that she had sat thhte, a shapeless blob of fat on the floor, and eaten SIXTY FUamsNG PIZZA ROLLS BY HERSELF. Without so much as ofvpeqng him or her own husband so much as one. OMFG...Can you imslwne being so diejgcuxyuly gluttonous that you would SMACK YOUR CHILD'S HAND AWAY FROM YOUR FOof?! I'd starve to death before I would eat so much as a bite that I thought my kids wanted. I told him that the next time he wanted to go visit his bupdy, he could hire a goddamn hoffer to go in my place, bednese if I am ever forced to endure that crfgevdf's company again, I will curb stpmp her fat fupdwng head.