1st
I’m Not Dead, You Pricks
Hey, everybody! How was your summer vacation? Good? Didja go down the shore with your Uncle Fritz and softly cry to yourself while he was busy playing “Doo-Doo Hole Treasure Hunt”? That’s great, really.
I’ve been quite the busy little beaver this past month or so; between the fat camp my rich overweight parents sent me to and all this Brazilian tranny porn I’ve had to watch for my Writing in Film class, I’ve barely had a chance to wipe myself after a trip to the can, much less wrestle hobos for their moth-eaten gypsy souls. Oh, and write anything for you whiny, overprivileged fucks.
Okay, one COULD make the case that I’ve been insanely busy with summer classes and trying to find some kind of employment to not starve to death. I’m just saying- which one would you rather believe? (Hint: your mother and I wouldn’t blame you if it was the first one!)
But fear not, my entitled brats! My schedule is clearing up very soon, as soon as my ankle-monitor that smartass judge said I have to wear gets activated. I swear, you drunkenly masturbate yourself at ONE Dunkin’ Donuts and all of a sudden you have a “problem”. Well, besides the crippling addiction to smelling my own farts. So cheer up, homo kid- I’ll be back to bitching about anything and everything under the sun (including the fucking sun, that dirty prick) soon enough. Now if you’ll pardon me, it’s time for my bracelet fitting. Have you seen the Vaseline?
