My Fat Daughter is arguing with Lindsey Graham

I often have difficulty telling your fat daughter and Miz Lindsey Graham apart.

Lindsey has more hair on his head and bigger breasts, r1. My Fat Daughter has more body hair.

If you excuse me, I really need to get my fat daughter another piece of cake!

R2 - Girls, GIRRRLLS!!! You're both short blonds who like to rim Republican assholes and lie for sport and attention!

Focus on your similarities instead of your differences!

At least Lindsey wears a girdle and can paint a large penis in oil or watercolor based on memory. In fact, Lindsey could probably paint a multi-colored penis using just her own memories.

Meghan would need to google one to get it right.

I'm surprised he has time to argue, but I guess everybody has to take Trump's mushroom dick out of their mouth once in a while.

Before My Fat Daughter married her fat husband, r5, all of her “boyfriends” were homosexuals from the Phoenix chapter of the Log Cabin Republicans, eager to have proximity to her father.

These gay men never realized that John would always grumble, after these homosexuals hoisted My Fat Daughter into a horse trailer and took My Fat Daughter for another dinner date at the Golden Corral, “She’s trying to date ANOTHER QUEER? Is she deaf and blind?”

My Fat Daughter’s fat husband is very ambitious, and when he saw My Fat Daughter, he looked past the grease stains, the swollen flesh, and the balding scalp, and saw a lucrative long career for himself as a GOP pundit.

Neither one of them has seen their feet in years, so you are correct r5-between her fat husband and her homosexual suitors, My Fat Daughter would need Google for that.

Your Fat Daughter is just envious of Miss Lindsey's ability to maintain her girlish figure.

Correct, r8. Lindsey would always start the fights with my fat daughter, making fun of her heft and inability to wear pants not made of spandex.

Lindsey would come to our home and prance over to My Fat Daughter, who was busy devouring a couple of pork shoulders.

Wearing a pretty polka dot dress and pigtails, Lindsey would say something provocative like this to My Fat Daughter:

“LOOK MY DRESS MEGHAN! ISN’T IT PRETTY! I AM A SIZE 14 SO I DON’T HAVE TO SHOP AT ARIZONA TENT AND AWNING! DADDY SAYS I AM THE PRETTIEST! NYAH NYAH NYAH!”

My Fat Daughter would hear this, start growling, and lumber over to him, and the cat fight would begin.

You have no idea how many times I had to use a couple of garden hoses to stop their scrapping, and separate them.

One day they will both head out for a hike in the desert but only 1 will return.

I'm pretty sure I know which one will return.

And she'll be burping.

For any of you who missed the previous thread, it is well worth your time.

My Fat Daughter is claiming today that the “No King” moniker is hypocritical because Democrats treated Obama like a deity.

I don’t recall Democrats groveling on their hands and knees for forgiveness to Obama after making the slightest public criticism of his policies, but My Fat Daughter always thinks she knows more than everyone else; because of her degree and celebrity status, as a View panelist and daughter of a dead politician.

To prove she’s a Millennial who speaks in the vernacular of today’s youth, she uses the word “literally” in her illogical little argument. Actually, My Fat Daughter uses “Literally “ twice, because her greasy, Big Mac stained fingers slipped on the screen and she copy/pasted it twice.

My Fat Daughter told John she wanted a big military parade for his Inauguration should he become President.

My Fat Daughter didn’t want to waddle down Pennsylvania Avenue, so she wanted to be hoisted atop a Howitzer and driven to the ceremony that way, while she daintily waved. My Fat Daughter has to be careful waving, because of her flabby , bingo wing arms.

Body by Burger King.