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Chantal cannot run at all even if she wanted to but it is funny that the first limb diabetes usually takes is a foot. I have always said that the day that she can no longer drive either because she no longer fits in the car, is bedbound or loses a foot; is the day she will hit a whole new level of nastiness. The bingemobile is the only form of independence she has as an adult. Uber Eats is fine but she could no longer drive hours on a whim for fast food, have those car binges in the middle of the night, the feeling of being served by employees and that delusion of random men lusting after her.It's like she's TRYING to pick a fight with lord beetus.
That's not a fight you want to pick Jabba, you can't just run away and hide from him like you do with criticism.
And blood sugar doesn't give a shit about temper tantrums.
Well, I’m no writer, but I guess it’d be something like that.
The silence of the office is broken by the ding of the elevator doors sliding open, followed by heavy breathing and loud stumping. The wheezing is soon joined by the spine-tingling lament of wheels squeaking their requiem. A series of animalistic knocks shakes the door in its hinges. A fart is heard. A giggle. The door swings open. A red-faced sweaty creature waddles into the office, her gargantuan belly pushing a walker with a fat cat and a stack of McDonald’s bags and pizza boxes sitting atop. She rummages through the mess, pulls out a stack of papers, and drops it onto the desk. Between two grease stains and some ketchup a name can be read.
“M’am, the interview was two hours ago. We’ve already...”
“You beezin’, Sammy. Who’s my big boy. Who’s mama’s fat boy,” a masculine voice growls. It takes him a minute to realize it came from the woman. Unperturbed by his remark, she picks up her cat, sending the content of two pizza boxes onto the expensive carpet, and drops the animal onto the desk.
“Sammy’s a big boy,” she giggles.
He nods uncomfortably. Obscured by the initial shock, a smell of old socks and dirty toilets assaults his senses. Deciding that the best course of action is to fake the interview and hope she will leave without much hassle, he tilts back in his chair and opens the window.
“It’s pretty hot today, isn’t it?” He says with a big smile, as a heap of snow forms on the windowsill. The woman stares longingly at the pizza on the carpet.
“So, Chantal, what can you tell us about yourself?”
Visibly annoyed the woman looks at him like he’s a pile of dog shit she just stepped into.
“That’s very personal.”
“We just want to get to know our candidates.”
“You know what. I’m done. I’m sick and tired of having to explain myself to everyone. It’s my life and I can do whatever I want. You people are sick. Why don’t you bully someone else. Why me? It it just cause I’m fat? I’m done. From now on, I’m keeping everything private. It’s none of your business what I do.”
Before he can say anything, the now purple faced woman swings back and forth in her chair, and, having gained enough momentum, stands up, grabs her cat and waltzes out of the room, dragging her walker behind her. Through the open door, a man is heard yelling about Jeff Bezos until the noise of the candy jar flying onto the marble floor covers everything in a blanket of silence. The elevator doors open and close. As he picks up the chair off the floor, he notices a brown stain in the middle. He decides to take the rest of the day off. Maybe even the rest of the week.
Well according to her storytime vids she wasn't much of a worker to begin with and didn't get along with any of her co-workers...can't imagine that's improved with time/extreme weight gain.She'll never be able to get a regular job for sure but I'd love to see her have an actual interview. She'd be so obnoxious answering any questions, and I imagine the only questions she'd have for her interviewer would involve how long their lunch break is.
Well according to her storytime vids she wasn't much of a worker to begin with and didn't get along with any of her co-workers...can't imagine that's improved with time/extreme weight gain.
If Chantal goes full leg loss I hope they can design her a spider robot to ride around in instead of a wheel chair (to help with those dang stairs).The wheel chair didn't spook him. I doubt it will spook the Foodie. Her version of a good time includes sitting after all. Simply horrible.
no one caresI have to say, as a newcomer to both the glory of Chantal's YT channel and to Kiwi farms - I feel disappointment. I was prepared. I found out about ALR and Chantal from reaction channels. I knew there was a cycle. And while I feel disdain for ALR, I mostly feel sorry for Chantal. She comes off as completely erratic and super unaware of everything. She just reacts unlike ALR who plans. I KNEW there was a cycle and I still felt hopeful and wanted her to try. I understand why her content is basically the land of hate watching now. I refuse to click through any of her content. Suicide of any kind, even by caloric intake, is not something I want to watch.
I have seen people with diabetes. I knew one patient that simply has both of his legs chopped off higher and high each year. Last I saw him one was to his mid-thigh and the other was freshly bandaged to his mid calf. The wheel chair didn't spook him. I doubt it will spook the Foodie. Her version of a good time includes sitting after all. Simply horrible.
The only job she could conceivably do is a call center type job now that so many are home based. I could just imagine needing help and getting Chinstrap on the phone.I don’t understand why people even bother suggesting Chantal gets a job. She motors around her kitchen in a wheely chair. If she can’t even be bothered to walk to the refrigerator, I can’t imagine her hitting bricks to break into the competitive job market![]()
If Chantal goes full leg loss I hope they can design her a spider robot to ride around in instead of a wheel chair (to help with those dang stairs).
Like my man Yagrum here.
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The only job she could conceivably do is a call center type job now that so many are home based. I could just imagine needing help and getting Chinstrap on the phone.
Peetz is not going to spend any of his meager "professional capital" getting Chantal a job with his company when he knows she'll fuck it up within days, if not hours, and ding his rep in the process. He's autistic, not stupid.Peetz could get her a job.
Peetz is not going to spend any of his meager "professional capital" getting Chantal a job with his company when he knows she'll fuck it up within days, if not hours, and ding his rep in the process. He's autistic, not stupid.
Nobody would want to eat any food Chantal's associated with, even before they watched her put her fingers to her mouth and nose, run them through her dirty hair, and touch the food once more.I'll be optimistic and say there are plenty of jobs Chantal could do if she chose to try. Does Farm Boy have a greeter at the door? She could get a minimum wage job welcoming customers as they walk in. She wouldn't need legs to do that, she could just sit there. "Welcome to Farm Boy, HEE-HEE!"
Or she could hand out samples of lunch meat and cheese in the deli section. But she'd probably get fired within the first week for eating all the samples.
The fuck of it is that Covid makes it easier for someone like Chantal to find work because so many positions are work from home. She would just need a microphone and a computer, which whatever company would sling her way, and she could probably do customer service for amazon or some shit.I know, but in theory he does a job she could do.
Even if he offered, you know she thinks it's beneath her.