Chain Letters to a dying dream… Oh how I hate it here.

I would really like to thank Michele for this but I’m not going to.  Instead I am going to light her AMC Pacer on fire and roll it into the local burn ward.

Because the internets doesn’t have enough weird shit someone started this little crapfest.  A fucking chain letter for blogs?  What the bloody hell!

Here are the rules.

1. Link to the person who tagged you.
2. Post the rules on your blog.
3. Write six random, arbitrary things about yourself.
4. Tag six people at the end of your post and link to them.  (This could be a problem.)
5. Let each person know they’ve been tagged and leave a comment on their blog.
6. Let the tagger know when your entry is up.
7. If you don’t repost this I’m going to come to your house and beat you to death with a parking cone.

Screw rule 4, 5 and 6.  If you want to steal this shit and annoy your friends with it have fun with that.  I’m not going to do it.  Well I can’t since all my friends come from a liquor or pet store.

I added rule 7.

And on with the idiocy:

1.  I stopped making jokes about midget porn after I watched one.  Really it sounds funnier then it really is.  In fact it’s kinda creepy, disturbing even.  The point is if you think midget porn is funny you have never watched one or you should be in prison.

2.  I  often give people fake names when I’m in a bar.  I do it mostly to see if anyone will get the literary reference from the name.  That and since I don’t like most people why do they need to know who I am.  The sad thing is very rarely does anyone notice even when it’s obvious like John Galt or Emmanuel Goldstein. I think I’m just going to give up on literature and use something like Hideyoshi Toyotomi or Vladimir Ulyanov and see if anyone gets the joke.

3.  I was once a member of a lesbian punk band.  I’m not a woman or gay.  Like you, have I have no idea what I was doing there.

4.  I found the best way to get a telemarketer to stop calling your house is to threaten their children. This is not legal but it is effective.*

The conversation went like this:

TM. Hello would you like to hear about our deals on vinyl siding for your home?

ME.  What the fuck?  I live in an apartment what the hell you I need vinyl siding for?

TM.  Well could you give me the name and number to the manager of your apartment complex?

ME.  What?  I work nights and you wake me up and want me to go help you sell shit to my landlord?

TM. well…

ME.  Look lady this is the 50th time you guys have called me! How about this next time you guys wake me up for this shit I’m going to come to your house late at night wake up your entire family and disembowel them with a rusty knife and eat your fucking dog while you watch! You got that!?

Click…

5.  I know what jet fuel tastes like.  I wish I didn’t but I do.

6.  In a thousand years I want the world to still remember me.  I also want them to still hate my guts for what I did.

* Do not do this.  If they call the cops it wil take the cops all of 5 seconds to find your address and the only time cops are late is when you need them, not when they are coming after you.  But it does work.

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1 Comment

  1. I just knew that would be fun … for me.

    And I promise to never do that to you again. Leave my Pacer alone.


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