On the side of my email inbox, there's always these stupid ads. Today's ad is for a weight-loss program, and the picture on it is a lady smiling creepily at me while holding a brownie in one hand and an apple in the other. I generally ignore the ads because they're stupid and irritating, and really, who clicks on things on the side of a page anymore? We all know about viruses and stuff like that.


This one, however, is too much to overlook.


Really, lady? Really? You're judging me by whether I'd take the apple or the brownie? Anyone who wouldn't take the brownie is insane. An apple is just an apple, but brownies are delicious magical goodness in a little square package. You never know what could be in there. There could be pecans (not walnuts; I'm allergic to those) or chocolate chips, or even butterscotch chips.


You'd miss out on that for an apple?


Not only that, but you're judging me for my snacking choice? Granted, I know I should take the apple or even not have a snack at all; I have enough fat stores to live on comfortably for years. I could just go hibernate right now and not have to emerge until I'm 40. Naps are great.


That is beside the point, though. My snack should be my choice.


In addition, lady, you look like you weigh about 100 pounds. Do you really want to tangle with this? Get up in my face? I'm a big girl, and I'm pretty sure that before I curl up in the fetal position on the ground and start crying because I feel bad that I hit you, I could do some damage. There's muscle lurking under this protective outer layer.


So maybe you want to wipe that smarmy little smirk right off of your perky little face.


Oh, and that's another thing: She's perky. Really perky. I can tell from her picture. She's obviously a professional aerobics instructor or something like that. I'm sure there are very nice people out there who lead those kinds of classes, but this lady's not nice. I can just picture her, wearing her little headset microphone and standing beside me as I struggle to get my feet moving properly to do the grapevine move, saying something along the lines of, "I don't see that smile!"


Bite me. I can't exercise and smile at the same time. That's like asking me to yodel underwater. It can't be done.


I wish I could've ignored this ad. The demonic smile on her face will haunt my dreams. Of course, I can always beat her up in my dreams and it'll be great. That's what I'll do: Dream that I'm beating her up, then make some brownies. Brownies with butterscotch chips. 


Bahahahahahahahaha.....take that, Oh Perky One.