I'd be lying if I said the human race didn't disgust me. I disgust me. The 15 out of 16 hours a day I spend watching Netflix and online disgusts me. The fact that I haven't showered today, or yesterday because I wasn't seeing anyone besides my mom and my cat, disgusts me. The other fact that I went to the store on that 16th hour to spend $14.55 on circus peanuts, gummy peach rings (which I bought because I knew my mom would eat the peanuts, but had a bad situation with peach schnapps and wouldn't touch anything with flavoring, that's disgusting), pina colada Haagan Daz, lemon sherbet, sour gummy worms, and a bag of kettle cooked salt and pepper chips which are all almost gone disgusts me. The fact I have absolutely no idea what circus peanuts are made out of kinda disgusts me too. On a day that I am not completely dedicating to becoming morbidly obese, I do in fact leave my house. I become disgusted by other things like the cost of gas, the lack of fabric that random slut was wearing at the gas station, and the fact that the only Chinese restaurant within a 25 minute radius does not deliver. When I come into contact with an actual person that involves a conversation, the disgust thickens. I come to work in a semi-disgusted mood to begin with because I had to ditch my couch and laptop, shower, and stop shoving food past my double chin and down my throat. The thought of that scene disgusts me too.
The customers at work ask some unique questions, if we're being polite. It can be as simple as "What country am I in?" or "How are you?" I never know if these questions are rhetorical, but after about 5 seconds of blank stares I clench my jaw together into a visibly forced smile and respond "The United States" or "How are you?" because lets face it, this customer couldn't give a rat's ass if I was good, dying of cancer, or suicidal and they just want to know if they have to pay a tax here that they don't in Canada. When the customers are feeling abnormally friendly, rest assured my coworkers can make up for it. Whether it is correcting my attempt at communicating with humans due to my lack of experience (No, Allison. Say "Hello" not "Welcome") or just being there to discuss their Friday night dates while I have one with the couch, they will guarantee disgust me. My managers will be sure to inform me that my register was 10 cents under and the world is going to end. My feet are going to probably get blisters from those uncomfortable leather wannabe shoes. It all is pretty disgusting.
And when I'm on my way home, blaring some hate-felt music, I will pick up French fries at my local dining establishment (McDonalds). That way if I did not already get the opportunity in front of the tv to eat my daily calorie count in one sitting, I can while driving. It's pretty impressive how great I am at eating while driving, no actually it's really disgusting. The other day when I was balancing my large fry and large sweet tea (because nobody is going to buy a medium drink at McDonalds when a large is cheaper, welcome to America) I couldn't help but wish my thigh gap was bigger. Yeah, my thigh gap. Because then I would have a lot more room for that drink and fries, my drink wouldn't have fallen over and stained the rugs of my mom's mini van and nobody would have known that yet again I am eating fast food for the 4th night in a row. America glamorizes said thigh gap for various disgusting reasons, but I have the nerve to say that my reasons for wanting my thigh gap to be bigger probably take the cake.
Therefore after much observation and a considerable amount of first hand experience, I think it is safe to say that the human race is disgusting.
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