One of the unknown benefits of being a chubby chaser in America is the severely high volume of “chubbies” waddling around everywhere. It’s not a surprise then that many seasoned chubby chasers (like myself) are able to rack up huge notch counts annually. If you’re from the pickup community, then you automatically understand that a high notch count equals serious game; and there’s no doubt my notch count is epic. If I kept count of every notch, I’d need the talent of a professional accountant to help me organize the spreadsheet. Here’s a picture from my current excel spreadsheet in progress:
Check the image above, do you see it? Column C is weight. I have a special industrial grade scale, normally used for construction, built into my bed that allows me to weigh every fattie I fuck — It’s quite the piece of DIY engineering on my part. How does it work? Easy, when no one is in the bed it is zero; when I bring a fattie on my bed, I just subtract my weight and BAM, got her weight. Anyway, not to get off track…
Thanks to the rising obesity rate among women, which is already high as shit, I don’t have to put much thought into venue selection when I want to get my game on. I don’t even go out of my way to shop at Walmart as much anymore. They’re everywhere. Thank you HIGH FRUCTOSE CORN SYRUP, thank you Koolaid, Thank you McDonald’s and Burger King. Thank you for indirectly making it easier for me to maximize my notch count. At roughly 850 notches under my belt, you should be worshiping me mother fuckers.
All I can say to you wannabes, if you see me heading toward a fattie, you better step aside fast. I’m on that ass like a homing missile. WATCH OUT!