Tuesday, August 31, 2004

Fatsuit fights the Wanton Wonton

A long time ago, I worked as a drone in a custom publishing company on the outskirts of Boston. I was underpaid and underworked, but my coworkers were freakin' hysterical. One lass in particular, one Kate Smyres, was so funny she made me cry a little and sometimes pee my pants.



Kate went to Emerson, where she was pursuing a Masters in TV Wizardry and Media Savviness. As part of her program, she put together a Web site, advertising a fictious WNBA basketball team called the Boston Stranglers. I was the rather zaftig chainsmoking forward, Dutch Hubley. My bio page stated that I lived in an abandoned limosine in Newton, Mass., with my adorable triplets, and that I subsisted mainly on pulled pork sandwiches.



Vanity requires me to stress that I am, in fact, wearing a fatsuit in these photos. Also making a funny face. Also lurching around like a crazy drunken hick. Smyres found the whole thing so amusing that she started to call me Fatsuit, which she does to this day.



I only wish the site were still up. Fortunately for you, though, the photos still exist, and Smyres was generous enough to send them to me when she found out I have a blog now. Here's an expurgated version of the note she sent along with the photos:



fuck me, fatsuit if these aren't the funniest fucking

photos you've ever laid your fucking eyes on!



i can't decide which one is my favorite.

xo,

smyres




She's right, you know. They kinda are. Anyway, enjoy.







3 comments:

  1. It's hard to believe that the USA won the gold in Women's BBall when Dutch was otherwise employed. The snake-like moves, the vertical leap, oh hell... the SNARL! I'm freakin' terrified. Squeak, Squeak.

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  2. Don't forget the post-Grunge pixie haircut, which, sadly, was not a special effect for the Web site.

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  3. Holy Moly! You look ten years older in those pics than you do today, and that was like, what 5 years ago?

    By the way, my fave is definitely you collapsed on the ground, clutching your chest.

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