My dearest Slutty, I received your latest alimony check,
it was on time as usual, thank you.
Ever since that unfortunate financial
misunderstanding that caused me to resign
as Mayor, and that messy situation with
the Brazilian stripper that lead to our divorce,
times have been hard for me.
I believe that is all about to change though.
I spoke with a gentleman today
who would like me to embark on a business
endeavor with him.
He proposes that we, he and I, allow ourselves to launch
the careers of young starlets. We, in effect, would give the
young ladies a way to begin their acting profession,
unburdened of the confines of both rules and their clothing.
It’s kind of like being a secret agent, or a host on The Price is Right,
or the weather man, from an abstract styled perspective.
Regardless, it is slightly covert, and nothing I would care to admit
whilst we hob knob with the best of people because of the mounds
of wealth we have amassed, so there will have to be a cover story
you see, I may leave those details to you.
Leroy
My Dear Leroy,
I am delighted to hear your job prospects are on the up
as quite frankly you are becoming rather an inconvenient drain on my finances,
especially since that lawyer of yours managed to increase the alimony I am already forced to pay you.
Quite how you managed to convince the judge that your beauty regime was
a necessary expense, I have no idea, but then I am sure one flutter of your pretty boy
lashes had a similar effect on him as John Belushi had on Carrie Fisher.
I do hope you manage to find some gainful employment quite soon.,
as it’s been rather a troublesome time of late, what with those people
we lost at the clinical trials this month, so there’s a fair chance our research
funding may be cut short, unlike your nails, if this becomes the case.
I asked her opinion about what I should wear. Her flood of indecision and waffling and general
anxiety struck me like a small tsunami, causing
me to pick the striped shirt that I had purchased
just thirty minutes prior.
This proved to be extremely problematic,
as the new unwashed shirt was quite abrasive
and has rubbed my nipples quite raw.
Okay,
I’ll tell y’all what happened.
It was the best of times,
and now it’s the worst of times.
While I was on Twitter this morning,
I fell in Love with Martha Stewart.
I poured my heart out to her in a tweet,
I really thought we had made a connection.
It’s now been over twelve hours,
and she has not replied, not at all.
Oh she’s been on Twitter, she’s been
tweeting all day, to everyone but me.
Well fine Martha, have it your way,
I’m moving on baby. There’s other
chicks out there who would be thrilled
to tweet with me. You had your chance
lady, and you blew it.
I’m done with Martha, I’m not even
following her anymore, it’s just to
painful to read her tweets.
For the three of you following my
steamy twitter romance with
Martha Stewart, she still has
not tweeted me back, or acknowledged
my earlier tweet of passion in any way.
There is a cool girl in Newcastle,
who knows how to twirl a tit tassle,
she will hypnotise
the coolest of guys,
and then he won’t be any more hassle. ~Dr. Slutty Poppins
I used to date this girl,
names will not be used,
not that she is innocent
or anything, I just don’t
need another attempt on
my life.
That sure is a strange saying
isn’t it?
“An attempt on my life”
I am attempting to have a life,
however the results are not so
forth coming, maybe it’s because
the are forthwith and foregone as
a conclusion that they, vis a vis,
or so it would seem to be,
sans intrusion on the inclusion of
said results I aforementioned.
Preface: This story takes place about a year and a half ago.
Elizabeth is the receptionist at my job,
She attends meetings with me,
and takes notes for me.
She is not my secretary,
it just makes me look cool,
and frees my time up to rant as needed.
Also at meetings where I am speaking,
Elizabeth will sit up front and open
her legs so I can see up her skirt. More
I hurt my hand up
and I am having a difficult time typing,
this is going to take forever to write,
but I finally figured it all out and need
to tell y’all before I forget or get sidetracked.
First, I used to say ADD was just people
too lazy to pay attention to boring stuff.
Here’s a newsflash,
nobody wants to listen to other people’s boring nonsense,
but we do because we know there will be a quiz to follow.
Now, I think people with ADD are taking a stand.
They are sending a message to boring ass people,
“I refuse to listen to your dumb ass unless I’m high”
You ADD folk have my respect.
Listen to women,
and you will find yourself alone.
I have made this mistake a few times.
You meet a girl out at a club,
she’s acting all hot and slutty,
you take her home,
do sexual acts you’ve never done before
and can’t spell, and then start dating. She starts telling you that she
would prefer you dress a little differently,
she starts giving you that look of disapproval when you buy pop tarts at the grocery store. She asks you to watch lifetime with her, she wants to stay home all the time now, next thing you know, you have pink socks on.You are listening to her, you are in touch with her woman-ness, your friends think you have turned gay and are making jokes about you.
She tells you to ignore them, they don’t understand women and are jealous. You have done as she asked, you have listened to her. You are a modern man, who is kind, gentle, and understanding. You are in tune with women.
You are about to get chumped.
Then one day she says,
“I’m not happy, this is working for me anymore”
She dumps you, then your friends kick your ass for wearing the pink socks.
A month later, you see her ass at the same club,
doing the same stuff she was when you met her.
You are back to being you,
and now she thinks y’all should get back together.
Go caveman on her ass.
Grab her by the hair,
and drag her back to your cave.
Hold a grudge.
Make her pay dearly for making you
listen to her rants about understanding
women and being in touch with your feelings and stuff.
Be a man in every sense of the word.
Treat her like she was that kid who at his boogers
at recess. Torment her. Make her listen to idiotic bad jokes,
send her to buy cheap beer for you and your friends. If you start feeling romantic or something, remember this is the chick that bought you pink socks that got you that ass beating from your friends. After you have used her to the fullest extent possible, take her shoes, open the door, throw them in the street, and tell her it’s time for her to go now. Notice how she shows up on time these days?
She will want to talk about your feelings,
and romance, love, and her womanosity.
Do not engage her, she got you last time with
that trick, don’t fall for it again.
Keep your head down, and your mouth shut.
If you find yourself saying,
“Maybe she has changed”
or
“but she’s different than other girls”
just remember what Pimp-C said,
“Love is one thing, but dumb is another,
and I’d be dumb to let her run things”
Think about it, God said the same thing
in Revelations,
“I totally hooked Adam up, then his stupid ass
starts listening to Eve, and everything went
downhill from there.”
I need someone to not
leave every time things
get a little strange.
I mean really what the
fuck do people expect
out of me? It’s not like
I have ever been any other
way. Truth be told, I think
I do better than most with
the whole reality thing.
Well, not really, but I
am consistent, and further
more I am persistent.
Fuck there was a point,
but I’ve long since forgotten
where I was going with all that.
Neither one of us seem to be able
to remember what day it is, that
could be a potential problem.
I tried to get us organized, and
make us a calendar so we could
start scheduling things and setting
reminders and stuff, but we both
keep forgetting to do it.
I don’t care, she makes me smile,
and what an ass on that chick.
I can overlook her long list
of shortcomings I think.
Can someone have a long list
of shortcomings?
It just doesn’t sound right.
I’m totally having poptart withdraws.
I’ve been off of them for like three
weeks now. I used to always eat them
at this time of day. I would wake up
to eat a poptart.
I didn’t need an alarm clock,
it’s instinctual for me.
I should be asleep, I have a meeting in
five hours. Well I think I have a meeting,
I just can’t get the hang of that fucking
calendar thing.
This will probably turn out to be one
of those times like showing up for
school when it’s closed, or on a Saturday.
Maybe you don’t know that feeling,
so you can’t understand, but she does.
At least I won’t be the only one standing
in the parking lot this time, she’ll be
there too, and she’ll bring us something
to eat. It will be like a picnic and
we really won’t care that we aren’t
supposed to be there.
You never look stupid
if someone else is with you.
I have found a direct correlation between
children that do not eat their Brussels sprouts
and adults with anger management issues. The most severe cases are those involving
English girls who hide them in their father’s
shoes. These individuals are prone to extreme
grumpiness and tend to lash out at the bald-headed.
There is no known cure or treatment.
Embrace your inner conspiracy theorist.
Realize that maybe, just maybe,
the massive web of deceit is
something you created yourself. Ah ha!
That is EXACTLY what I want you
to think, isn’t it?
That you are crazy,
that you just imagine the whole thing.
I must be messing with you,
it’s nothing but mind games!
You are of sound mind, aren’t you? Ah ha!
More mind games,
designed to chip away at your self-confidence.
What if, you’re just making it fit?
Making it fit like you make your
horoscope fit.
More mind games, clearly.
I am just trying to confuse you.
