I don't know how you manage without me. The world around you is so god damned brain dead that you have to turn off your brain just to make it through the day. Nobody challenges you and I guess that's why you keep coming here even though all I do is make fun of you and showcase my brilliance over you and give you shuddering feelings of inadequacy.
You know a lot about feeling inadequate. You can't even urinate correctly. You sit on the toilet and dribble into your panties when you sit up because your bladder doesn't like to tell you when it is done peeing. I bet sometimes you "forget" to change your underwear even though you just pissed your pants. Quit calling it dribbling. What you did was piss your pants. Quit trying to tell yourself something different like maybe the new stars of Beverly Hills 90210 really are "too skinny for TV." Cut that shit out. There is no such thing as too skinny for TV. And there is no such thing as just dribbling pee.
They say the bitch on the left is skinny. I say I like a woman with an eating disorder. I know you like to say that you have an eating disorder too, but eating too much is not a disorder it's just gross. "Just like being able to count that bitches ribs." You reply. Yeah. Just keep telling yourself that. I think we all know better.
I don't have a sequeway for this, but I just took a big green shit. It was slimy and kind of nutty because I am eating sunflower seeds, because I just can't quit anything which when you think about it pretty much confirms why I am loser in the real world. Like you I am such a quitter that I can't even quit quitting.I guess what I am saying is that I am not giving up on all of you quite yet. I will still post. I just am not going to be pushed around like all your other toys and be bullied into posting every day. Some days writing is a chore and lately those "some days" have gotten closer together and these days the chore of writing for you is a loud, noisy six year old throwing his spaghettio's on the floor and demanding more.
I get frustrated when I can't fix a blog post because I think I have failed you and I know I am the only person looking out for you. I have several posts sitting in hiatus like an unfunny sitcom on CBS. I still feel the need to fix them and no matter what the focus groups say I still think they can be tweaked and put on the air. I just know you are going to like all the new characters I have banished into blog purgatory. And even though I know you will love all my new characters once you get to know them. I am just not sure how to introduce you to a bunch of unlovable pedophiles. I worry you may not get it. Right now all I can do is tell you that Miley Cyrus is dating a much older man and you should probably not worry about her. At least don't worry about her as much as you should worry about yourself for needing me so much. But then again your neediness is the best thing about you.
I guess I am stuck with you.
That's why I love Dr. Von Monkeystein. He can't quit me even when I quit on him even when my quitting on him isn't so much quitting as resting as even God gets to rest on the sixth day but whatever I won't quit you, dude. I just can't.
6 comments:
I may be needy but I NEVER dribble! And you have to wear unmentionables to have to change them in the first place. Dribbling is for the mentally unfocused. I knew you wouldn't feel discouraged for long. And I'm sure that the majority of your readers can grasp your fresh crop of Chomos.
Oh no. I thought I was worried about Miley Cyrus and her millions of dollars and this older beau, but then you told me I should be more worried about myself. I do need you Romius. Who ever else will tell me how shitty my life is if not you. You have given me hope, a hope that my addictions are not for naught. When I was merely focusing on my whether or not my children did their homework and, on occassion, forgetting to feed them, I now realize I should have been obsessing over pedophilia on the internets.
(Seriously, just tell me what you need and it's yours. Within reason, which is, like, about $5.00. Really. Anything. Just ask.)
P.S. I have missed you, but it's not you; it's me. I' thought I was too busy to comment your blog, but I was wrong, it seems.
Freida,
Your god damned right you have time to post a comment on my blog. I expect at least one a day. I don;t think you could give me less even though all I do is point out all the flaws in your world so you can go fix them. I love you frieda...
Stephy
i just thought you might want to know that you caught this blog post as I was editing it. I tend to post the blog then edit it over and over again.
point in fact:
i have no idea which version (i think not the last) that you both read, maybe you will need to read it again. You can a sense of wonder at how much I have to edit to get this shit even readable.
I'm honored you mentoned me in your post. I consider my life complete now.
I wish I could quit eating junk food, but I could never quit you, you quitter.
...the chore of writing for you is loud noisy six year old throwing his spaghettio's on the floor and demanding more....Heh. That is one of the reasons I love you.
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