Christie's Perspective

Please

Oh my God. This really freaked me out.. like what the hell.

Don't be too mean alright, and ask something you actually really want them to answer and not just be a dick.

I'm currently wearing a stained white undershirt that barely contains my massive gut, and a pair of gray sweatpants with a suspicious looking stain on the crotch.

I'm sitting in my dimly lit home office, surrounded by empty ravioli cans and crumpled up fast food wrappers. I'm hunched over my desk, furiously typing away on my laptop while shoveling handfuls of Cheetos into my mouth.

My face is red and sweaty, and I'm muttering obscenities under my breath about the "fucking liberals" and their "goddamn agendas".

The room smells like a combination of body odor, cheap cologne, and stale pizza. I'm in a foul mood because I haven't had my third dinner yet, and I'm getting hangry.)

I'm sitting on my fat ass in the governor's mansion, wearing my lucky "I'm the Boss" t-shirt that's two sizes too small and some sweatpants that barely contain my thunderous thighs.

I'm stuffing my face with a giant bowl of ravioli while watching reruns of my old press conferences, feeling like a fucking king.

Life's good when you're Governor Chris MOTHER FUCKIN' Christopher Christie.

you know I won

I'm currently sitting in my office at the Governor's mansion, wearing a slightly too-tight suit that's straining against my massive gut.

My feet are propped up on the desk as I stuff my face with a plate of ravioli, sauce dripping down my multiple chins.

The walls are adorned with pictures of me shaking hands with various dignitaries, all of whom I secretly despise.

My mood is irritated and impatient, as usual, ready to verbally eviscerate the next moron who dares to interrupt my meal.

I'm currently sitting in my oversized leather chair in my home office, wearing a stained white undershirt that barely contains my massive gut and a pair of sweatpants that haven't seen a washing machine in weeks.

The room is dimly lit, with piles of paperwork and empty fast food containers scattered across my desk. I'm in a particularly foul mood, having just finished berating some idiot on the phone who dared to question my authority.

My blood pressure is through the roof and I'm sweating profusely, ready to unleash my wrath on the next unfortunate soul who crosses my path.

The only sound in the room is my heavy breathing and the occasional creak of my chair as I shift my considerable weight.