You Deserve a Refund
Predator Press
[LOBO]
As a blogger, I'm enjoying the same crazy rockstar life as any other blogger does. And trust me, if you are among the lucky few to know someone else that blogs, ask them when the last time they were being blown by six chicks in a limousine absolutely dusty with poppy derivatives: if it's over two weeks, I'll manage the dumb ass myself for a while. You know, make it a contest or something.
It's really hard to blog when hot chicks are always throwing themselves on the hood of my car as I go about my otherwise enriched, healthy, robust and fulfilling life. And christ the accounting hassles! Every goddamned day, it's "I need a copy of your 1967 F-16 Form," and "IRS Audit," and "You bought a what?!?". I swear to god I think I'd like to just liquid nitrogen the whole Fiscal Unit, and chip little pieces off of the bastards until they're just a big melting slushy gob of useless DNA.
So, on the bright side, Predator Press will likely be hiring soon.
It's tough being this ragingly successful! Just ask Paris Hilton. Poor thing ... "overworked and drinking on an empty stomach", she gets a DUI. A DUI! She was 'overworked', it seems, making fun of the middle class.
Us.
That sucks. If I were you, I'd be pissed; I was always hoping Charlize Theron would pop up on "Simple Life" and beat that skinny, polluted flake with a tire iron. Well, after a decent lesbian kiss anyways.
The networks need this to happen. They are going to have a hell of a time recouping from this Crocodile Dundee debacle aka Steve Irwin. By the way, hello, America doesn't give a shit about animals; we were just preoccupied at The Deli, waiting with bated breath for a nice cut of meat while TIVOing a new tragedy. We need a new Mike Tyson, JonBenet, O.J. Simpson for Chrissake!
We create these monsters. And voting with our wallets, we pay them, knowing full well we want nothing more than a good fucking show.
So who is the monster?
I don't really care if you watch, frankly. But at least take Paris Hilton and Johnny Knoxsville and sterilize these people before we lose two centuries of Evolution [Or 6.99999 years of Creation: You go God Squad!].
In the meantime, all you hot brunettes and athletic, nubile blondes should not badger me for my phone number while I'm picking up those bagloads of cash on Wall Street anymore. It's almost harassment really. MY number, as always, is "1". It's easy to memorize because it looks so much like the letter "I", which coincidentally is my favorite letter ...
[LOBO]
As a blogger, I'm enjoying the same crazy rockstar life as any other blogger does. And trust me, if you are among the lucky few to know someone else that blogs, ask them when the last time they were being blown by six chicks in a limousine absolutely dusty with poppy derivatives: if it's over two weeks, I'll manage the dumb ass myself for a while. You know, make it a contest or something.
It's really hard to blog when hot chicks are always throwing themselves on the hood of my car as I go about my otherwise enriched, healthy, robust and fulfilling life. And christ the accounting hassles! Every goddamned day, it's "I need a copy of your 1967 F-16 Form," and "IRS Audit," and "You bought a what?!?". I swear to god I think I'd like to just liquid nitrogen the whole Fiscal Unit, and chip little pieces off of the bastards until they're just a big melting slushy gob of useless DNA.
So, on the bright side, Predator Press will likely be hiring soon.
It's tough being this ragingly successful! Just ask Paris Hilton. Poor thing ... "overworked and drinking on an empty stomach", she gets a DUI. A DUI! She was 'overworked', it seems, making fun of the middle class.
Us.
That sucks. If I were you, I'd be pissed; I was always hoping Charlize Theron would pop up on "Simple Life" and beat that skinny, polluted flake with a tire iron. Well, after a decent lesbian kiss anyways.
The networks need this to happen. They are going to have a hell of a time recouping from this Crocodile Dundee debacle aka Steve Irwin. By the way, hello, America doesn't give a shit about animals; we were just preoccupied at The Deli, waiting with bated breath for a nice cut of meat while TIVOing a new tragedy. We need a new Mike Tyson, JonBenet, O.J. Simpson for Chrissake!
We create these monsters. And voting with our wallets, we pay them, knowing full well we want nothing more than a good fucking show.
So who is the monster?
I don't really care if you watch, frankly. But at least take Paris Hilton and Johnny Knoxsville and sterilize these people before we lose two centuries of Evolution [Or 6.99999 years of Creation: You go God Squad!].
In the meantime, all you hot brunettes and athletic, nubile blondes should not badger me for my phone number while I'm picking up those bagloads of cash on Wall Street anymore. It's almost harassment really. MY number, as always, is "1". It's easy to memorize because it looks so much like the letter "I", which coincidentally is my favorite letter ...
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